The Girl With Burning Emerald Eyes
by Mononoke-hime x sukai kurora
Summary: Now reveled to be the daughter of England and France, Alice begins her second year of Hogwarts. She begins her training to understand what it means to be a nation, and is shared the memories of England's past as the darkness grows outside and inside of Hogwarts. Will Alice rise when tragedy strikes the wizarding world?
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

 _Her sight was full of darkness. She could feel the wind against her flesh, brushing against the fine almost golden hairs. The young girl could only understand that she was lost. She had no idea where she was. Her emerald eyes tried in vain to stare at the light. Suddenly, there was a scream._

 _Alice Kirkland was transported to the day she had almost lost her life. The two months that had passed vanished in an instant, and the girl who had grown a couple of inches over the summer felt afraid._ Emyr… _Alice ran, her breath suddenly gone from her throat as she remembered. Arya Emyr, fifth year of Slytherin House, had died battling a Death Eater along with Ron Weasely, another fifth year in Gryffindor. Alice had been held captive with England at that time, and had almost been strangled by a possessed Harry Potter._

 _When she had heard the news that two of her friends were dead, Alice almost collapsed. Emyr had been one of the first people she had met in Hogwarts, and Ron, although somewhat exasperating at times, had been a dear friend to Alice and had made her laugh. She had heard whispers that Harry had killed a Death Eater and that he had a row with Ginny, Ron's younger sister. The first year had known that the Gryffindor fifth year hadn't killed Bellatrix Lestrange. Mum had. The English nation had explained to her that a nation's identity was a secret not to be told by many humans. The less his citizens knew the better, he had said._

 _Alice had gone to Emyr's funeral during the first week of July. It had been a very hot day but without humidity. It was very small, with only somber witches and wizards standing by the small grave as it was dug. The blond-haired girl had seen Emyr's parents, and could see their hands intertwined and their faces gaunt. She had tried to apologize to them, again, but they had told her that she had nothing to be sorry for and that they were proud of how their eldest daughter had died. Alice had seen her friend Evangeline weeping with her knees to her chest, almost looking like a very small child as she wept beside her sister's grave. Alice knew that she should leave her friend alone, so she simply watched her friend before the Emyr family walked away. She could see England behind a tree, waiting for her, and together the nation and child had walked away._

 _Alice had also tried to go to Ron's funeral as well, but she had been turned away. The once plump and kind witch Harry had described Mrs. Weasely to be was now thin and bitter as she rasped that Alice had no right to be here at her son's funeral. Ginny had said the same beside her mother, her brown eyes red and her once bright hair dull and disheveled. "You killed my brother," she snapped at Alice's stunned expression. The young girl had felt dazed, and she found her mother England by the river a couple of miles from the Burrow, and he had allowed her to collapse in his arms and sob as she shook. Alice thought of Harry then, hours later as she lied in her bed watching the clouds float in the sky. She had tried to write to him, but he had not replied. Mum had stated that sometimes humans like to be alone in their grief, and the wounds often healed at their own pace depending on their bearer. Although Mum had stated the word humans as if Alice didn't belong, the emerald-eyed girl didn't feel any different from a human._

 _She didn't feel like a nation._

 _Alice continued to run, stopping at once as the light appeared in her eyes. She gasped at the sight, seeing her dead human mother with her hazel eyes boring into her own. Screams filled her ears, drowning out her thoughts and her surroundings until Alice could only see the body of her dead human mother. Suddenly, the body stood, and Alice backed away trembling as a slim and pale finger was pointed at her chest._

 _"It's your fault…" she hissed._

Cold sweat beaded across Alice's forehead as she breathed unevenly. The dream felt so real. She continued to hear Emyr's screams and her human mother's voice. Although it had been more than half a year since Alice had left that house to live with the nations of England and France, the blond haired emerald eyed girl thought of her human parents more than she should in her dreams. Sighing, the girl sat up from her bed and moved her legs over to the bed. She stood. _I wonder if breakfast is ready…_ Alice wondered absentmindedly as she stretched.

With a hint of humor, she remembered her father's horrified reaction when she had been puzzled over the fact that scones _were_ good, and she offered to make some as the taller blond haired nation stood helplessly as the shorter one laughed. It had been during the first day during her summer holiday, and Alice had heard her parent's whispers and turned away with a blush as she noted them kissing. It soon became known that despite the stereotype, Alice was very good at cooking. Scones were now a required commodity during breakfast, and the blond haired girl often found herself arguing with her father over who should cook for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

 _Papa is cooking this morning,_ Alice thought with a slight smile at the thought of her father's hair tied back in a ribbon that he insisted had been given to him by _"mon amour Angleterre"_ when they were children. Alice had laughed when she saw Mum pout and try to say that it wasn't _his_ fault that France had long hair even back then. _"Your hair tasted disgusting in whatever dish you cooked,"_ he had muttered with a faint blush on his cheeks. Alice had remembered of how Papa had then embarrassed Mum even further when he told her about the time when England had tried to grow out his hair and ended up looking like a golden caterpillar. _"I thought it had eaten him, and was about to rescue him too when I heard his adorable voice."_ Alice had attempted to imagine England with long hair but failed, and laughed along with her father as her mother lowered his head in self-consciousness.

 _"Bonjour, mon cher."_ The wafting scent of crepes and bread tickling her nose as Alice sat across from Mum, who was reading the _Daily Prophet_ and sipping his tea.

 _"Bonjour, Papa."_ She noted of how France beamed and a slight smile on England's face as she said those words. After hearing Canada call the French nation _"Papa,"_ Alice had broached the question with him and asked him if it was okay if she called him by that as well. She had been surprised when she found the nation's arms tightly around her own, murmuring then-incomprehensible French to her as the other nations in the room smiled, including America. Alice remembered too of how America had tried to make her call him Uncle Al. _"C'mon, Alice. I'll be your favorite uncle from now on!"_ The young superpower had said with a wide smile as Canada stood across from him uncomfortably. Alice could never truly see America and Canada as her uncles. Although they _were_ older than her, America's rambunctious attitude and Canada's near-invisibility made it hard for Alice to see them as nations as wise as her parents or India and Japan.

Papa was now teaching her French, his horror almost comical as he realized that is daughter knew very little French. _"No daughter of mine cannot speak the beautiful language of love!"_ And so since then, Alice had been taught French little by little. _I wonder what vocabulary we will learn today,_ she thought absently when suddenly Mum pulled away from the table in shock.

The tea he had been drinking spilled, soaking the pages as the blond haired nation stared at the newspaper in shock. Papa was immediately by his side.

 _"Mon amour?"_ England was still, his emerald eyes echoing across the paper. Alice stared too, her blond hair slightly moving across her forehead as she looked across at the moving picture. She stilled. A black and white photo showed of a young man being rushed into an ambulance, his shirt torn and stained with blood as a large blond haired young man with small eyes rushed beside him. Emerald eyes. Dark hair. Glasses.

"Harry…?" Alice breathed. She hardly dared to believe in what she was seeing. She had given the small work of embroidery for a reason; to remind him he was not alone. And yet…

"Harry Potter…" Mum said as his face became chalk white. He licked his lips before an uneven breath escaped from him. "They say he tried to commit suicide."


	2. Chapter 2

_Warnings for mentions of suicide and depression._

* * *

 _Chapter 2_

The walls were white and it was cold. Alice shivered, pressing the small coat around her shoulders as she glanced at various posters advertising breast feeding and diabetes medication. Her emerald eyes focused on the two people closest to the door to the waiting room, the focus mostly on the figures and not, ironically, on the entrance to the staff of the hospital.

 _Professor Dumbledore…_ Alice thought as she peered curiously at the professor. When she and England had arrived in the hospital closet near the neighborhood where Harry lived, they had found the headmaster of Hogwarts talking with a large young man in a whisper. The robes that he wore caused many of the people in the room to stare, and a child had asked why the old man with the long white beard was wearing a costume. Alice had seen the wise professor smile briefly before turning to the young man, who was sweating profusely and looking around the room with a frightened look on his face. The blond haired girl looked at him for a moment, recognizing him as the person who had been the one to call the ambulance when Harry had… Alice's thoughts stopped when she saw the big young man point at her bewilderedly.

"Ah, Miss Kirkland." Professor Dumbledore slightly bowed his head, and a sliver of a smile framed his face. "I did not see you there. Would you like to join Mr. Dursley and I?" His thin and old hand gestured to the left side of him, and with a brief glance at the big young man, Alice sat down across from the headmaster.

"Now, as you were saying, Mr. Dursley…" The young man known as Mr. Dursley gulped, and Alice noted of how his small blue eyes glinted in fear, and his meaty hand clenched at his sides.

"You're…one of his friends, aren't you?" Alice noted of how the young man seemed to hesitate on the word friend, and he appeared to appear more afraid than ever when Alice started to speak.

"Yes. I know Harry. I'm Alice Kirkland. And you are…?" she asked, watching as the young man glanced at Dumbledore fearfully before replying.

"My name's Dudley. Dudley Dursley." _Why is he so afraid?_ Alice thought with bewilderment as Dudley began to sweat again and swallow thickly as he continued to look at her. "I'm Harry's…cousin."

"It was Mr. Dursley here who helped Mr. Potter arrive to the hospital safely," Professor Dumbledore said with ease as Dudley flinched as Alice watched him, noting of how calm he seemed to be about the situation. "You were telling me of how you went into your cousin's room, and found him covered in blood, correct?" Dumbledore's gazes shifted onto Dudley's, and the young man swallowed and began to talk haltingly.

"I…walked inside his room…and saw a knife by the bed." Dudley spoke in a mere whisper, and Alice noted of how he shuddered. "I don't know _why_ he didn't use his wand, because don't you people use _it_?" Although she supposed that the question was a harmless one, Alice could see faint anger in Dumbledore's gaze. Dudley quieted, growing pale for a couple of moments before starting to talk again. "There was so much of it…blood, and I tried to wake him up, but couldn't…and I…"

"Why do you care about Harry so much, Dudley?" Alice asked sharply. She remembered asking if Harry would spend the holidays with his family, and the first year had been stunned by the bitterness in the fifth year's voice when he stated that his Muggle uncle and aunt didn't give a shit about him, and that his monster of a cousin was a whale. _He sounded so pained despite the bitterness, and I just wonder_ why _this…whale would take Harry to the hospital._

"Harry…he…" Dudley looked away, and Alice was surprised to find of how his voice faded, not out of fear, but of regret. "He saved my life."

Before the blond girl could comment, a physician entered the room and called Harry's name. Immediately, Dumbledore stood with Alice and Dudley following. The physician was tall and had light brown hair. He briefly stared at the headmaster before continuing. "His wounds aren't fatal. The wound across his chest was only a flesh wound, but there is a chance it could scar." The physician glanced at Alice for a moment before asking, "Excuse me. Is there any chance you are related to the man who…?"

Alice nodded. _Mum had truly overreact sometimes,_ she thought as she remembered of how the nation had demanded to see Harry and be in his hospital room. Alice had almost giggled of how the nurses seemed uncertain what to do about the out-of-touch man who they eventually allowed to go into Harry's room and stay there. "He's my father," Alice lied as she gave the physician a small smile.

"Now I apologize, but the hospital regulations state that you cannot come into the room unless you are a relative –"

"They can come," Dudley interrupted. The physician stared hard at the young man, whose tone had sharpened to someone accustomed to getting their own way. Suddenly Dudley appeared to remember who he was talking to and added more meekly, "Sir."

The physician nodded, and the three followed him until they reached a door far away from the waiting room. "We had a watcher with him before your blasted father came," the physician said under his breath before turning to them and apologizing to Alice for his uncivilized manner. "He's sleeping, so please be quiet."

"What's a watcher?" Dudley whispered.

The physician answered, not too kind. "A watcher is a person on the hospital staff who makes certain that suicide attempts cannot successfully commit suicide."

The color drained from Dudley's face. "Oh."

Professor Dumbledore and the younger two followed the physician inside. The room was mostly bare and white with only a window showing the blue sky. Alice stared at the figure sleeping in the bed. _Harry…_ she thought sadly as she could see the bandages covering his chest beneath his hospital gown. The young wizard's hair was disheveled, and his face was pale. From blood loss or pain Alice couldn't tell. Dark circles were around his eyes, and his round glasses lied in the table across from him. A young-looking man with blond hair and emerald eyes with bushy eyebrows stared at the young wizard with a solemn look on his face.

"Hello, Arthur." The nation and Alice inwardly gasped, their thoughts convolving into a chaotic mess as Professor Dumbledore smiled at the supposed human. "It has been a long time, has it not?"

For now Mum appeared to go along with what Professor Dumbledore was saying. "So it has, Albus." The physician pulled up three chairs, and soon Alice was beside her mother and Professor Dumbledore. The lone non-magical human, Dudley, was sitting uncomfortably in the chair and twitched.

"I didn't expect this to happen," England confessed. His pulled at his hair, and guilt drowned in his eyes as he continued to speak. "If I had known…"

"It does no good to place blame on yourself, Arthur." Professor Dumbledore stated gently. "We can only protect the people we can see, can we not?"

"Who are you people?" Dudley blurted out abruptly. His small eyes glanced at the three people without meeting their gazes, and the physician left the room hurriedly. "I mean…how are you so calm?"

Professor Dumbledore allowed himself a small chuckle. "As for who I am I am Professor Albus Dumbledore. I am the headmaster at Harry's school."

Dudley appeared to be momentarily awed before turning to England. "And who are you are?" he asked almost rudely.

"I am a wizard of sorts," the nation added without hesitation. "And this is my daughter Alice."

Before there could be any reply, there was a loan groan. Professor Dumbledore immediately pulled his chair over to Harry's side, and Mum did the same. They both watched as Harry's eyes slowly opened.

"Professor…?" Harry's voice was weak and rasped. His eyes blinked, squinting at the sight before him. "Where…?"

"You're in a hospital, Harry." Professor Dumbledore's voice was so calm and in control Alice thought he could have been the physician who was supposed to be there. "You tried…" Now Alice could hear the tremor in his voice, but it was only for a moment. "You tried to kill yourself, Harry."

The dark-haired wizard looked down and could see his bandages though his hospital gown. To Alice's growing horror, Harry didn't appear to react. He simply lied down and stared at the ceiling with empty and glassy eyes.

Suddenly, Alice couldn't take it anymore. "Why did you try to kill yourself, Harry?" Her voice, growing with anger, echoed in the room. "Didn't I give you the piece of embroidery for a reason? And what about the rest of the wizarding world?" Angry tears caressed her face as her voice continued to shake. "What about–!"

"Alice!" England yelled, glaring at her with his own anger and disappointment. "Harry does not need this right now," he added more calmly as the girl continued to cry. "He needs –"

"It just…became too much." Harry's rasped whisper caused the three people in the room to stare at him. Mum was glancing at the young wizard with a forlorn expression, and Dumbledore began to have sadness in his eyes as both Alice and Dudley looked at Harry with wide eyes. "I…couldn't take it anymore. Ron's…death and Emyr's… was too much. I had nightmares, and I couldn't sleep. I…" A gasp escaped from him, and tears trailed down his cheeks as his eyes squeezed shut. "It was almost like…this fog came over me, and soon I couldn't even sleep. I lied awake every night, wanting someone to save me. But…" A rasp of laughter came from the young man, sounding so bitter and anguished. "No _one_ cares for me anymore. I thought I had the Weaselys as family, but…they bloody told me that I couldn't visit them because of my involvement in Ron's death. Sirius is gone…and everyone in the Order thinks I _murdered_ that bloody Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange." His pale hands gripped the sheets, and Harry continued to cry, the tears never ceasing from his swollen eyes. "It got so bad…the darkness…that I was afraid to be alone. I felt as if something was choking me if I _didn't_ have someone beside me." Sobs wracked through his skinny body, and the dull emerald eyes bored into Alice's own. It was as if, Alice noted, she was looking at the loneliness of despair herself. "I became so afraid…and breathing and simply exciting hurt, and it never stopped."

"I was afraid…" Harry kept whispering, tears falling onto his lap. "I was so afraid, and I…I thought that ending it would be better than what I had felt since….that day I decided to go to the Department of Mysteries."

"It's your fault!" Harry suddenly screamed, pointing his pale and shaking finger at Dudley. The young man didn't know how to respond to his cousin's cry as his face crumbled and violent sobs tore from his raw throat. "If you didn't come into my bloody room, then I wouldn't have to _feel_ this way anymore! There would be no guilt, no darkness, and no having to wake myself in the morning and force myself to breathe! Then I wouldn't…" he sobbed, choking as his fists clenched, his body tense enough to make the wound across his chest to start dripping blood. "Then I wouldn't…my entire _family_ said "good riddance," so why can't you?" Harry yelled, standing vaguely on his two feet as Dudley stood still. Alice observed him, very surprised of how he suddenly very calmly said,

"Because…you showed me what kind of man I would have been if I hadn't seen those creepy black things," Dudley stated at his cousin's stunned expression. "I want to be a better person than my parents…so I thought I would help you. In any way I can."

Harry quieted. He wouldn't look at Dumbledore. He wouldn't look at Mum. His broken expression continued to echo in Alice's mind, and she thought about holding his hand, but thought better of it.

"I placed Harry with his aunt and uncle because of the blood wards, and I thought perhaps he would be able to reach out to Petunia the way Lily couldn't." Dumbledore stated with heavy regret in his voice as he stared at the blond haired nation. "I see now that…this situation cannot continue you. If the Weasleys cannot unfortunately have him, then who would take him in?"

"Harry can stay with Alice and I," Mum stated after a couple minutes of thought. Alice observed his expression carefully. His face was grim and he briefly glanced at the numb Harry before adding, "He knows of us, Albus," he added with a knowing look at Dumbledore. "And I have a friend who can help him."

 _Who?_ Alice thought curiously.

"And what will you do, Dudley Dursley?" The island nation asked his citizen.

"I…" The large blond licked his lips nervously. "I don't know yet. I suppose I will crash at my friend's house for a while before I figure anything else out."

Both adults nodded, and Dudley stared at his cousin. It took a moment for Alice to recognize the care in his expression as he stared at his magical cousin. _He_ does _care for him,_ the blond girl thought. The physician came inside the room again, and Alice noted of how even though he was explaining everything to Dudley, her mother and Dumbledore seemed to be the only ones who truly knew what was going on. The non-magical cousin that Alice had only met very briefly appeared to be uncomfortable a couple of hours later when Harry was discharged from the hospital, and stared at the pale sleeping teen in the nation's automobile before asking Dumbledore and England to watch out for Harry before walking away on the sidewalk and blending in with the crowd. Alice turned and found the two talking before glancing at her and the two parted way. Not before though Alice heard her mother whisper to himself, "How long do you have, Albus?" glancing at the concealed left hand of the headmaster before walking to his automobile and gesturing for his daughter to come in. The light-haired girl wondered what he had been talking about.

Harry slowly adjusted to his life in the Kirkland-Bonnefoy house. It had surprised him to no end of how Alice's papa would speak French to him even though the English wizard had no idea what he was saying. The French nation had even tried for Harry to try to learn French with Alice, but her mother's glare had stopped that. _Harry must be relived,_ Alice had thought as she spotted the young teen staring at the window alone in his room again. _The language of love cannot help a broken soul, no matter what Papa says._ The balm for Harry's wounds came in the form of a nation. Two days after Harry had arrived, there was a knock on the door early in the morning. Alice had been surprised as her mother greeted the stranger with a wide smile and greeted him in a foreign language. Their parting revealed a nation of medium height with very light blond hair and dark blue eyes that strangely appeared wise and empty at the same time. He was wearing a simple red tie and a stripped blue and white shirt despite the warm August weather. Mum introduced the nation as Norway, and the nation who would help Harry with his depression.

"A nation's duties was rather boring," Norway said with a bland tone, "so I decided to get a medical degree and become a physiatrist."

"Duties?" Alice paused as her fork with scrambled eggs halted. Beside her, Harry stared down at his plate with disinterest. "What duties do you have?"

"Paperwork, meeting your boss, attending your citizen's government meetings, and choking Denmark with his tie." _Is he joking?_ Alice thought with a nervous look. Inwardly, she should have supposed that a nation's duties was beyond living throughout the centuries and going to war (as her nonexistent uncles were doing right now) and aiding their people, but she hadn't thought of the actual _required_ duties of a nation. _Is he joking about choking Denmark with his tie?_ Alice wondered, but before that, she could see Norway's eyes on hers and abruptly moved from her spot as Mum scolded Norway for not being "a gentleman" as the nation looked at her in boredom before he called for France to make an open sandwich for the five of them. "It would do for England's daughter to eat some of my house's food," he stated with a smirk. As they ate their sandwiches – which were delicious, in Alice's opinion – Norway explained to Harry what he must do. A slim hand reached into his pocket and set a slim notebook at Harry's side.

"You will write in this notebook every day, and once a week I will be counseling you. You will also take this medication." An orange bottle with a white cap appeared on the table with Harry's full name printed sloppily and with several stars colored red, white, and blue. Alice heard her mother sigh in exasperation and shook her head herself when Norway continued to explain that he had managed to buy this medication from America. "Since it was created in his house," the nation said with a shrug. "You will be taking the medication starting tomorrow, and once you go to Hogwarts, both England and I will be meeting with both you and Alice individually every second day of every month."

"Why?" It was the first time Harry spoke, and Alice could see his own confusion reflecting in her own.

"I will be teaching Alice advanced magic and how to use magic without her wand," England said with a serious tone with a glance at Harry. "I will also be sharing memories with my daughter. Norway will continue to counsel you and teach you dark magic."

"It is best to learn dark magic if you want to counter it," Norway stated before Harry could reply. "Besides which, you have already used a so-called Unforgivable Curse, haven't you?" Alice stiffened, remembering hearing Harry's shout of _"CRUCIO!"_ as Bellatrix Lestrange screamed. The screams echoed in her mind, and she could see that the teenage wizard was thinking of the memory as well, for he bowed his head.

"What about Alice?" Harry suddenly asked. His questioning eyes glanced at hers. "Why is she going to be sharing memories with England?"

There was a long pause, and Alice forced herself to remain calm, her fists clenched, as England softly replied, "She is going to be the next England when I die, and therefore, needs my memories in order to fully be a nation."


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

The first of September came quickly, and soon Alice and Harry were on the platform to the Hogwarts station. They both had said goodbye to the nations, and Alice had noted of how Mum had embraced her rather hard before giving both the Gryffindors a wave. _He won't see me at all these three months, and I won't have Uncle Scotland to keep an eye on me either._ Alice waved with Harry, seeing the nation Norway give the young wizard a look before the three nations turned and walked away into one of the pillars. The blond haired girl noted of how Harry had changed over the summer. Although he had ceased being afraid of sleeping alone and was less prone to moments of listlessness, Alice could see of how Harry would sometimes sleep more often in the sun and of how he was not able to speak of Ron and Emyr without a catch in his voice.

 _He will heal,_ Alice reassured herself every time she would see Norway in the doorway and calling for the young man to come down. _Mum said he knows more magic than he does, and was one of the only nations who fought in the wizarding war._ Alice paused. Although England had mentioned the unknown wizarding war briefly, she had no idea what he had meant. _He didn't say what war it was. I wonder what –_

"Harry!" A bush of bushy hair enveloped the sixth year as he found himself in Hermione's arms. Alice almost smiled as of how the young wizard attempted to break free from Hermione's grip when she would not let him go. "Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione suddenly asked, allowing the young man to breathe as she surveyed him, and Alice observed her eyes looking feverishly at him, worry burning in her gaze. "I heard about…what happened to you over the summer. And I just want you to know that I'm here for you." Harry nodded, Hermione's gaze never leaving exactly his as she continued to question him. "I tried to find you, I really did, but the Weaselys were no help." A saddened expression shadowed across her face, and the young witch began to speak rapidly. "I don't blame you for Ron's death, Harry, not at all! It's just…I like the Weaselys find it hard to accept that one of their family members is gone. And I –"

"It's okay, Hermione." Harry tried to smile, but it came out as a small grimace. "I was living with Alice and her parents now. It's for the best," he shrugged. The silence between them was thick and Alice could see the anxiety deepen in Hermione as she stared at her friend. The two females began to talk quietly as Harry trailed behind.

"Is he taking any medication, by any chance?" Hermione whispered as the three settled into their compartment. Hermione sat by Harry as the young man stared outside the window, and Alice sat across from them. When she nodded, the sixth year Gryffindor glanced at Harry, who was sleeping with his head against the window, and asked, "Who is the doctor?" Noting Alice's blank stare, Hermione flushed and explained she had wanted to become a psychiatrist before getting her Hogwarts letter.

"Norway is treating him. I didn't expect a nation to have a medical degree," Alice said with a small laugh at Hermione's expression. "But Harry…seems to be getting better, I like him."

"He must be mental," Hermione whispered in a hushed tone. Alice nodded, having similar thoughts earlier when she had first met the European nation. "Spending all those hours and time for a degree that he might not have even used."

"Norway said that the duties of a nation are boring," Alice said, and her face became morose as she remembered the instructions that Norway and England had given to both of them specifically. "And he said…" She hesitated.

"What?" Hermione prompted. Her gaze became more concerned as Alice's silence continued. "What is it, Alice?"

"Mum is going to come to the Gryffindor Tower every month on the second to prepare me as the role of the future England," Alice whispered without directly looking into Hermione's eyes. It had hurt to say those words, for she and her mother had become close during the summer months. Alice remembered vividly of how the island nation had groaned at the sight of America's invitation to his birthday party, and of how her papa had comforted her mother with tea and sweet words when England started coughing up blood.

Alice had panicked, thinking that it was another attack as her father placed Mum in their room with the cool breeze flying through the window. Papa had sat down with his daughter and explained that _Angleterre_ always coughed up blood and became weaker because of the American Revolution. _"Your_ maman _was devastated when America declared independence, and it still lingers despite over two hundred years."_

 _"Does Mum's condition collapse with every day independence was declared by him in the past by other nations?" France had shook his head, and spoke carefully to her._

 _"America's independence only hurts so much,_ mon cher _, because he was the first to…live on his own." Suddenly, Papa smiled as he stroked Alice's cheek. "This year, however, he seems to be taking it much better."_

 _"Why?" Alice had asked._

 _"Because you are here, Alice."_

 _Although Alice said nothing as her father continued to smile, the young witch couldn't help but selfishly wonder how much it would hurt when it would be_ her _body that collapsed on the fourth of July._

"I wonder what I will see in his memories," Alice audibly wondered. She saw Hermione shift in front of her and was about to reply when the door was pulled open.

"Evangeline!" Alice yelled despite the glowering Hermione gave her. She could see that the young girl was wearing her Hogwarts uniform already, and noted with a shock of how her former long hair was now shortened to her ears. "How are you?"

She searched for signs of reproach or perhaps disappointment, as Alice had only seen Evangeline once over the summer, and that was during her older sister's funeral. _Emyr…_ Alice thought with a pang, remembering of how a year earlier the guarded but kind fifth year had told her she was too kind for Slytherin.

"I'm fine," the grey-eyed young witch said even though Alice could see how the tips of her fingers clutched her robes tightly. "Walk with me?" Alice gave Hermione a short nod before she moved to the door, and with a last glance at a sleeping Harry and a concerned Hermione, Alice walked the corridors with her friend.

"Have you…learned any new spells over the summer?" Alice asked, trying not to sound as if she was avoiding the subject and failing.

"I have Arya's owl now," Evangeline whispered, her voice barely audible as the two continued to walk aimlessly. "I…didn't think I would need one, and Arya always said…" The dark-haired girl cursed when she felt tears stinging against her eyes.

"Do you blame me?" Alice breathed a sigh of relief when Evangeline uttered a quiet "no," and remembered of how the Evangeline had told her that she had a cat whom she had since she was a child and childish couldn't be parted from her. _"Which is good for me, because my sister has the owl."_ The cat, Evangeline began to explain, had cried when the second year had left, and she thought of herself as a fool for not getting an owl in the first place. Before Alice could comfort her friend, there was a sudden cold laughter behind them.

Alice and Evangeline turned to find a tall and thin wizard wearing robes with the colors of silver and green with a pointed pale face and white-blond hair. Behind him were two large young men around the same size of Dudley Dursley with hard mean eyes.

"Malfoy." Evangeline spat out the names as if it was a curse. Alice inwardly jumped, recognizing those names. _"It's part of the fault of that git Malfoy and his cronies that this happens in this time. I planned to change that, but nothing has come of it." So these are the people who…_ "Crabb. Goyale."

"That isn't how you should address upperclassmen, Emyr." Malfoy said with a shake of his head. Beside him, Crabb and Goyale grinned. "Especially considering the situation you are in," he added with a sneer.

"What do you mean?" Evangeline asked dangerously.

"The heir to the Emyr line has died, and _you_ are now the successor to it." Despite the demeanor she was presenting, Evangeline flinched. "Then again, your _sister_ wasn't much of an heir anyway." Malfoy sniffed with disdain, and Alice could see her friend attempting to control her building rage. " _Such_ a mudblood lover and –"

Evangeline pulled out her wand, and Alice gripped hers as well although she did not draw it, looking with disgust as Malfoy raised his eyebrows in mock horror.

"Is baby Emyr going to attack me?" he mocked. "I know more spells than you would ever know, stupid girl." He raised his wand, and Alice noted for the first time of how his left sleeve appeared thicker than his right. "It's a shame your parents didn't die as well. Shaming the House of Slytherin with that _filth_ , and it makes me wonder how long they have until –"

 _Bollocks!_ Alice thought as she saw Evangeline purple and heard Malfoy's cronies' laughter. Malfoy seemed unconcerned with the second year, flicking his wand lazily at the witch as she continued to rage further. _I have to do something!_ She saw Malfoy begin to say a spell as Evangeline froze.

 _Expelliarmus!_ Alice thought before she could think. _That's the spell that disarms an –_ Suddenly her emerald eyes widened at the sight before her, Malfoy's stunned face boring in her own. _Huh?_ she thought dumbly.

Malfoy's wand was no longer in his hand, and was instead several meters away. She watched as his eyes widened for a couple of moments before they became dark with rage. "You…" he muttered, his voice low and immediately Crabb and Goyale pointed their wands directly at Alice. "You mocked me!"

 _What happened? I…didn't mean –_ She heard Evangeline shouting that she needed to draw her wand now, and felt that the wand's wood was slick against her palms.

"Leave them alone, Malfoy."

Alice and the others turned, their gazes either becoming nervous or gleeful.

"Winters," Malfoy nodded to another Slytherin sixth year who had light brown hair and the same eyes as his younger brother, who was scowling in the compartment. The older Slytherin was standing outside his compartment. "How kind of you to join."

"I'm not joining, Malfoy." The older Winter's voice was icy. "I respected Arya, and I won't have you mucking her memory."

Malfoy paused. "You seem rather familiar with the mudblood lover, Winters. Was she your girlfriend?"

"Don't." This time the sixth year came to his full height, and Alice noted with slight dismay that he was even shorter than Mum. The look in his eyes made her forget that. "Leave." He did not pull out his wand, but his voice was cold and eventually Malfoy and his cronies left in a huff. The Slytherin who had defended them sighed introduced himself as Jeremy Winters, and his younger brother, who Alice instantly recognized as the student Evangeline had stated had hummed during the first class of Potions, as Matthew. The second year didn't particularly seem interested in them, and Jeremy glanced back at his younger brother before telling them that they best get into their uniforms.

"So, who was that really?" Alice asked.

Evangeline shrugged. "He was just someone who admired my sister and she helped him with his assignments. He's also one of those people who act as if they believe in blood purity when he really doesn't. You saw how my sister was mentioned," Evangeline continued with raw grief and anger in her voice. "Slytherins are looked down upon if they don't believe it, and since most of the Houses avoid us like the plague, Arya was often alone until Winters decided he needed help with assignments even though he has better grades than that prat over there."

"I'll see you later?" Alice asked as she saw Harry and Hermione dressed in their robes and the older Gryffindor girl gesturing at her impatiently.

Evangeline smiled for the first time since she had seen her today. "I'll see you later," she replied softly.

* * *

"The professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts will be Professor Snape!" The entire Slytherin table cheered as the other tables remained eerily silent. Alice could see of how Harry's face was red in anger although he did not say a word, and Hermione was looking at the High Table with an uncertain expression on her face. Alice herself looked at Snape, seeing the smug expression as his greasy hair framed his face. She could see another wizard as well, somewhat plump with a white mustache with his eyes looking curiously at Harry. _Professor Horace Slughorn,_ Alice thought as she remembered that he would be replacing Snape as the Potions professor. She saw of how Malfoy particularly celebrated, being the one most vocal in the professor's position.

Later that night, after having a small talk with Evangeline (If that Kirkland fellow have stayed, and we wouldn't have to be taught by that bloody bastard.") the second year Gryffindor pulled out a familiar pocket watch and stared as the hands ticked and ticked. She thought about what had happened with Malfoy, and of how she had _simply_ thought of one of the many spells Mum had taught her over the summer holiday, and…

 _Mum said that there was a time when witches and wizards could say spells without speaking and without wands,_ Alice thought as lied on her side. _He said only the older nations remember the art…and I'm young too, and yet I was able to say a spell without my wand_ or _speaking. What is going on?_ Alice couldn't help but feel a pit of fear in her stomach. _I can already do first year level spells with ease, and managed to do a second-year spell without even using my wand._

 _I wonder…how far will my magic take me?_


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

"Come in." The voice was impatient, and was not kind as the door revealed a very pale and blond boy.

"Malfoy." Serves Snape turned and looked at his prized student. "Sit."

He continued to glance at the ingredients before him, uttering the measurements as Malfoy continued to wait. _It is ironic,_ the former potions master mused, _that I am teaching imbeciles how to defend themselves when the Dark Lord is at his highest power as of yet. I wonder if_ she _is feeling the effects,_ he thought with a slight smirk before facing the sixteen year old.

"Now. Repeat what you said in class, Mr. Malfoy." To his credit, the boy did not flinch when Snape looked at him straight in the eyes.

"Sir, I said that a second year could do a better silent Shield Charm than what Potter could have." Snape's lips curled and he watched as the boy shook his head in disgust.

"And what second year could _possibly_ do a high level spell without words?" Snape muttered under his breath. "Well?" he snapped.

Malfoy was silent for a moment, and then his voice clouded in rage. "That Kirkland bitch…Alice Kirkland, the one who's snogging that mudblood lover Emyr –"

"I have no interest in what is going on in between Houses," Snape intoned. Malfoy straightened when the professor suddenly looked seriously at him. "Tell me more."

"She disarmed me." Snape almost laughed at the broken pride in his student's voice. "I have no idea _how_ , but without even speaking or using her wand, I know she used the _Expelliarmus_ charm. It was a mistake, of course," Malfoy hastily added.

Snape thought, curiosity peaking within him as he thought of the girl with the emerald eyes that had unfortunately survived. _The Dark Lord seems ever interested in her for reasons unknown to me, and her_ father _of course._ "You know of your mission?"

Malfoy nodded, his eyes alight with pleasure and a small smirk framing his face. "I know what I need to do."

Snape nodded, turning away and focused on the potion before he waited for a couple of moments to order Malfoy to leave. The boy instantly complied, leaving Snape with his thoughts.

 _This nation…is becoming rather interesting._

* * *

"Kirkland!" Snape watched the familiar figure stopped putting away her textbooks and stared at him with uncertainty. The other students hastily exited the room, Snape inwardly snorting at the cowardliness as he and the nation were the only people in the room. He barked for her to come closer to him, and she did. He noted of how the young nation appeared so innocent, with her wide emerald eyes widening further as Snape ordered her to stand motionless where she stood.

"When I try to disarm you, say the Shield Charm, although a _brave_ Gryffindor such as you would know such a charm," Snape stated mockingly, even though inwardly he knew that students did not know of that specific charm until they were in fourth year. To his minimal surprise, the blond haired nation nodded. "And," he stated before she could open her foolish mouth, "don't use your wand. Say it inside you mind."

 _"Expelliarmus!"_

The nation fell to the floor. Snape looked at her with disinterest, his curiosity waning as he watched the girl crouch to pick up her wand as it had fallen on the floor. His coal-black eyes surveyed of how she stood, noting of how her former apprehensive face was now serious and questioning.

"Again." Snape whispered briefly before saying the weak spell. The nation appeared to struggle, although her want to not fall from her hand, and he noted of how she gritted her teeth.

Her emerald eyes burned.

The Shield Charm was a success, although a rather weak one, Snape noted smugly. His eyes never left hers as the nation put her wand back into her pocket of her robes. The professor told her to leave him, and she did, Snape noting of how only after a moment, the strain of doing such an advanced spell disappeared. She walking with a straight back, and glanced at him with her eyes briefly before her steps faded. _Alice Kirkland,_ Snape thought as he remembered another pair of emerald eyes that burned like flame. _I am…beginning to see why the Dark Lord has such an interest in you._

* * *

"Are you ready, Alice?" The young girl nodded, her eyes boring into her mother's as he gestured for her to come to him. England and Norway had arrived as they said they would. The island nation had appeared in the girl's dormitory, waking Alice from the stress of the first day of classes. He appeared to wear what Alice had seen him mostly in. The dark green uniform from World War II. Although it was more than forty years old, Alice thought that the uniform fit him more than the suits that he wore of the light blue robes she had first seen him in, when he had just been the mysterious Professor Arthur Kirkland.

He had smiled when she said as much, saying that the uniforms of war had been the most comfortable to him. Although Mum had paled at the choice of his words and hastily tried to explain what he meant, Alice had stopped him by asking him how many uniforms he had worn when he had fought Papa. England was at lost for words, his face becoming pensive as he gently set his palm on Alice's forehead. Faint unknown words were whispered to her, and then Alice knew no more.

 _She felt the pain first. It oozed out of her wounds, the yellowish liquid seeping from her joints. Her eyes were heavy and it was painful to open her eyes as her brain screamed at her to close them. Alice noted of how she was wearing breeches and a shirt stained with blood. Her hands – her eyes widened, for she realized that her hands were much smaller and did not have callouses – were stained with mud and dried blood, and a hacking cough tore through her throat as she collapsed onto the ground. It was raining. She felt the small pelts of rain against her skin, making her shudder with cold and another wet cough escaped from her. Alice wondered where she was. She had no idea whose body she was in, and only noted of how a pulsing, black, and oozing bulbous was on her neck. There was another on both of her armpits, and – despite the situation she was in, Alice blushed heavily – on her groin. She pushed herself upright, inwardly screaming as her body burned and gasped horribly at the sight before her._

 _There was a large wagon carrying bodies. Alice's mud and blood-crusted face morphed into pure agony at the sight. Dead bodies, some with their legs hanging on the outside, and some still moving and faintly moaning as the flies hovered above them, were pushed by a lonely man and two boys. They had their faces covered, and their shoulders slumped as they continued to walk away. Alice thought it was rain at first._

 _Then she felt the lone warmth of her tears as they fell down onto her damaged knuckles, and screamed, the only sound that echoed on for miles, as the bulbous popped and oozed the foul-smelling liquid as Alice bit into her tongue to stop screaming. Her body was hot, burning as if with flames, and she coughed, feeling the phlegm mixed with blood dripped down onto her throat._

I thought I was going mad, _said a voice. Alice turned, screaming at the feeling of her bones and muscles crack. Her breath became gasps, and began sobs as despair began to increase as images of every dead citizen echoed in her mind. Alice had no idea how she knew this. She had no idea how she could see a young man dead with his parents sobbing before his dead body, bodies of naked children thrown in mass graves, a grieving husband burying his pregnant wife along with his four other children before he too got sick with the plague and died alone. She could hear their last words, pleading and crying, screaming names or gurgling as they choked on their own blood or simply hearing the rattle of death._

I thought I was going mad…or perhaps I would actually disappear. _Alice gasped, heaving her broken body as she in vain tried to sit up. No, not her body. The young girl only realized it now. It was England's body…and she somehow became him._ It was not fair, I thought…that I had not even lived one thousand years and would see death at such a young age. _Alice heard her mother chuckle._ I had not even yet beat the frog at the war we had…and I deplored at the thought of him seeing me in such a state. He would mock me, for sure. _The voice continued echoing in her ears, soothing somehow to her ears even as Alice fought for breath._ Imagine, the young nation who said that he was going to never be enslaved again dead by the plague. _Alice found herself fading into unconsciousness, the voice whispering to her somehow far away._

 _She found herself being taken, ripped away as her arm was broken, screaming a name as she saw the bloodstained battlefield. Knights with gruesome wounds and impaled with swords and heads decapitated from bodies, intestines flowing from a gap where the abdomen used to be. Alice found that she could not pull free, no matter how hard she pulled and tried to get away, the grip held firm. She could still see him, fighting like the brave and kind man that he was, wielding a sword despite the enemy being overrun and his allies' craven. "Stephen!" The voice belonged to a child, not to the young girl that she was. "Stephen!" she continued to scream, beginning to cry as the king –_ her _king – faded away from her sight as enemies swarmed around him. "STEPHEN, DON'T –" The scream died in Alice's throat as she felt a sharp blow to the neck and fell into the darkness. Alice opened her eyes and found eyes pure with malice staring at her. She flinched, feeling the woman's touch on her chin before she pulled away and ordered Alice – or England – to stand. The young girl felt herself suddenly being thrown onto the ground, her chest colliding with the cold hard stone. "It's your fault," Maude hissed. Alice instantly knew who she was. For although she remembered the proud woman from history, the name belonging to the daughter of Henry I echoed in her mind._

" _If you hadn't stayed with that whoreson Stephen, then maybe my crown would be mine!" Alice could feel her wound started to open again, the wounds from the war that had torn apart her country for almost a decade now. Blood started to leak, and Alice started to feel fear as Maude, proclaimed the rightful heir of Henry I, continued to punch her, focusing on her head. "I am the rightful heir! You will pay for your mistake, little nation!"_

" _We can't chose who are bosses are," Alice found herself saying. The voice that came from her was not her own, and inwardly, she admired England for his courage as she continued to speak to the breathless Maude. "We can't even fight when there are fights in our land. We stay with our bosses…until a new one comes." Maude appeared to reconsider, stilling her violence as she looked at Alice._

" _So then, when that crown-stealer Stephen is put into the gallows, I will be your new boss, correct?"_

 _Alice gasped and spoke before she could consider the consequences._

" _I don't like you!" The young nation screamed. "I never have! All you've done to me so far is slap me and kick me! Like that old king…that bastard William…" She should have stopped there, she knew, when she saw the stony look on Maude's face and the rage in her eyes at the mention of her grandfather, but Alice didn't pay attention. "Not Stephen," Alice sniffed. "He's kind to me, and actually plays with me like Francis used to…and he lets me have all the food I want. And he cares about my people! And his wife Matilda is so nice…she reminds me of Moth –"_

 _Suddenly Alice felt a hard grip on her shoulder, and her wide eyes stared at the enraged woman before her. "Your childhood is over, little nation," Maude hissed as Alice quaked with fear. "I heard of how your_ precious _king allowed your Francis to come over last Christmas despite living across the sea, and it seems that is_ my _honorable duty to remind you that you are a nation!" A fierce slap caused Alice's head to turn, and she saw spots dot her eyes as Maude continued to hit her. "You are not a child! Francis is no longer your friend, little nation, and_ kindness _does not get anyone anywhere. You are centuries older than me, and yet you do not realize this? A nation does not have friends! It is like being a king, only worse! Having no one but yourself to trust!" The woman stopped, looking hard at the crying and blubbering child before her, pity in her eyes. "I hope you will know this when I am dead, England."_

 _Alice's sobs echoed in the room, and they trailed onto the stone floor like pearls._

"Alice." At first, the emerald-eyed girl had no idea where she was. She could still hear England's sobs in her mind, and the harsh words spoken to him by the mother of Henry II. "Alice." Her eyes, hazy still with the memories, stared at England's for a moment before the nation whispered, "I'm sorry."

Alice was still not able to comprehend, the memories burning in her mind. Of the bubonic plague and the twelfth century English civil war. "What…?" she rasped.

England stared at her, sadness drowning in his eyes as he suddenly embraced her. "I'm sorry for forcing this burden on you, Alice. I…would live one thousand more years living the worst memory if…it meant you did not have to follow this path." He swallowed, and Alice was reminded of when he had stated similar words to her when she had been wounded, almost destroyed by dark magic. "You have to be strong now, stronger than anything, if you are to be a nation."

"What do you mean?" Alice asked. Her rasp echoed in her ears and she cleared her throat.

England closed his eyes and breathed heavily. "It means," he stated slowly, "that when I die, my memories…will become yours. The memories that you have now will only be a hint of what you will inherit from me."

"So…" Alice whispered. "Will I simply become you?"

"No," the island nation replied. "Your personalities and your existence will continue. It is only that along with my memories…you will also have your own." His eyes widened and then became suspicious when the young girl suddenly blushed.

"What about…certain memories?" she whispered. Her face felt hot, and Alice sincerely wished more than ever that she had _not_ asked Norway how her parents had sex. _Such a clinical detached manner, almost like a textbook._ "Memories…with Papa?" Her red face caught England's, and his eyes widened at the realization of what she meant.

"Um…" If the scene was comical, Alice would have laughed of how embarrassed and red her mother looked, not even able to meet her gaze. "Well…I believe certain memories…can't be unlocked until you reach a certain maturity." He coughed, a blush continuing to redden on his cheeks. "If you're a pervert like _Francis_ , then –"

"I don't ever what to know!" Alice squirmed, her eyes downward as she whispered now. "I…don't."

"I don't even _think_ there would be a way for you to see them," England reassured her. He seemed to be reassuring both of them. "Although, knowing the perverted frog that he is, he probably would like certain…" He trailed off, and heavily cleared his throat. "Is there anything you need to ask, Alice?"

Alice stared at her mother, the heavily uncomfortable thoughts fading as she somberly thought of the few memories she had seen. "Did you hate Empress Maude, Mum?"

"Hate?" The word seemed to surprise England. "No. I did not hate her. She may have been cruel to me at times, yes, but that what was because she thought what she was doing was right. Stephen…" England audibly sighed, and Alice could hear the nostalgia in his voice. "He was not a very good king, for he was too kind, but he treated me like his own son. He would always apologize for my wounds that he and Maude caused, and…he treated me with dignity, not a tool, like so many of his predecessors and successors have done."

Alice listened, and stared at her mother as she knew would one day be good advice to her. "When do you know…" she asked, slightly hesitating, "When do you know if you have a good boss or a bad boss?"

"It depends on a variety of situations, Alice." England replied seriously. "Stephen was kind to me, and yet I suffered through ten years of civil war, hearing the dying screams of my people. Richard I seemed larger than life and cared deeply about his people, but still went on that blasted Crusade. There will be bosses who will be kind and understanding of you, and other bosses who don't care and see you only as an object, or as for me," he added wryly, "a relic of the past. I don't know, honestly, and the oldest nations themselves are uncertain of the answer, Alice."

"Mum." England looked to see his daughter looking at him with a fond expression. "Can we…just sit and talk tonight? I…want to just be with you right now."

The nation appeared to consider it for a moment before nodding, a gentle smile on his face. The two sat down beside each other, talking or not talking at all until the sun rose. And when Alice slept, England brushed her hair from her forehead before kissing her gently, as he and Norway disappeared that night.

* * *

In my book, Malfoy is very dedicated to his mission. I also read _When Christ and His Saints Slept,_ so I might be biased against King Stephen verses Maude. I had a more favorable opinion of him than the mother of Henry II.


	5. Chapter 5

I apologize if you do not like the thought of Harry and Hermione in a relationship, but this will be one of the pairings in this story. Their feelings will develop over time, not just in this one chapter. I did _not_ kill Ron off to make their relationship appear more realistic, but to transform Harry's character, and was interested in how he would react if his best friend had died. I believe that part of the trilogy will be shorter than the previous, and will also have shorter chapters. I apologize for any broken hearts, but I hope you will continue to read until the very end.

* * *

 _Chapter 5_

"Harry?" Harry looked up from his plate of breakfast and looked up. Hermione was staring at him in concern. Her own food, half-eaten and with bits and pieces of fruit, was pushed aside. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, Hermione." The sixth year Gryffindor didn't look convinced, and Harry sighed. It was now October, with the leaves changing and the weather cooling. Perhaps if he didn't have this… _problem,_ it would be better. He would be outside practicing Quidditch, perhaps even being the Captain, and he and Ginny would be on speaking terms. He glanced at the redhead, and found her talking with several younger Gryffindors, her brave and warm brown eyes no longer directed at him.

The nation – or Dr. Bondevik as he preferred to be called – had said that Harry was making progress. He had told the young wizard that when he first met him, Harry was on the brink of metal collapse and could commit suicide again. Now three months of therapy and Muggle drugs – the nation called them by a strange name Harry knew that his friend Ron would laugh at – were helping him find himself again. The two had discussed guilt and grief many times, so many times Harry could recite the last conversation they had last three weeks ago.

" _Anger can do many things, Mr. Potter."_ For a moment, the physiatrist/nation appeared like a professor explaining something difficult to a child. _Well, I am one, compared to him,_ Harry had thought with a faint humor. _"It can cause actions you cannot take back, or say words that you regret."_ His strange empty blue eyes bored into Harry's emerald. _"What you have to decide now…is what you are going to do with the darkness inside your mind. Are you going to mold it until you can control it, or will you have it consume you and make into a person your friend wouldn't recognize?"_

Harry had obviously objected to learning dark magic even though the nation in front of him had told him that he would learning it. The young Gryffindor had protested, saying that learning dark magic was the same as being a Death Eater. The nation had stared at him, and Harry almost flinched from the amount of scorn the light-haired blond had. _"Was it not you who uttered a spell punishable by imprisonment in your country?"_ Harry had instantly stilled, remembering the infinite rage that coursed through him in the aftermath of Sirius' death. _"I suppose the only reason why you are not is Azkaban is because of your status as the Chosen One and –"_

" _Don't call me that!"_ Harry had suddenly yelled, anger masking his face and glaring at the nation. It felt…good to be angry. It was a long time since he had felt anything. Anything at all, and Harry breathed deeply, grateful that Norway had put up a silencing charm surrounding the boy's dormitory and made it so that they couldn't be seen with the ancient magic of his. _"I…"_ Harry swallowed, the anger cooling in his stomach, immediately replaced by the aching sadness that was so familiar. _"I don't want to be called that, Dr. Bondevik. Ron –"_

Harry halted at the sound of his friend's name, the breath in his lungs immediately seizing before he began to breathe normally again. _"Ron, although he was my best mate, saw me as the boy who saved the world and not simply at myself at times. In our fourth year, when my name came out of the Goblet of Fire, he actually thought that_ I _had put my name in. He thought I was craving for glory, more than I had."_ Harry had paused, remembering of how he and Ron had ceased speaking to each other, bitterness and jealousy from Ron's side tearing them apart until the First Task. _And Hermione_ knew _I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire. She was by my side, just like now… "I_ was _Harry to him, but not completely. I don't want to be the Chosen One. I simply want to be Harry, sir. I just…want to be Harry."_

 _"You want me to treat you as your Granger friend does, Mr. Potter."_ It was not a question and more of a statement, but Harry still stared at him in shock. _"Your friend…Alice told me about your relationship with your fellow peer, and it appeared to early on that you consider her in high regard, possibly also because she sees you as you are and not simply as…the Boy Who Lived."_

Harry had dumbly nodded, noting of how he had never thought of why he had thought of his friend Hermione in such a high regard. The female Gryffindor had been often at odds with her male friends, being known as a perfectionist and bossy and a know-it-all and nosy. But…Hermione, except for the brief time they had met, had thought of him as simply _Harry_ and not the hero he was supposed to be. Even Ginny, the sixth year Gryffindor had reflected then, had completely separated the hero from the boy he was. He had thought of how she had supported him through this… _struggle_ , and of how patient she was with him.

Although Alice and sometimes Luna would speak with him, it was Hermione who stayed up at night to work with him on his assignments – his attention-span had been almost nonexistent since the summer – and she had listened patiently to his frustration on his complicated feelings for his cousin Dudley, who had mailed him by owl and awkward letter of asking how he was doing and of his own feelings of inadequacy. Hermione was…

That was when Norway had told him that he could control his anger, or allow it to control _him_. He had told a shocked Harry that it was England who came up with most of the spells modern wizards had used for centuries, including the Unforgivable Curses. _"Even though we live as almost immortal creatures, we are capable of madness and rage that could melt your veins. England had very many enemies at that time, and worked magic to protect himself and hurt other nations. It is no secret, for we have our own dark histories. You do not think of England as evil, do you?"_ The physiatrist had asked in a monotone voice as he stared as Harry slowly processed the information. _"But then, how could you? You are his citizen, and the one who will defeat the darkest wizard since Grindewald." Grindewald?_ Harry had thought. _Who is that?_ Before he could ask, however, Dr. Bondevik had begun his other training.

Learning dark magic.

Most of the dark magic was not dark, the nation explained. Yes, Harry did learn about ancient spells and other spells that he had heard Death Eaters shout in the Department of Mysterious, but it more about learning about how to use those spells and learning their weaknesses. Harry had not told Hermione of course. The female Gryffindor would shout loud enough to wake the entire school if she had heard. Thinking of the young woman now, Harry continued to stare at her worried expression.

"C'mon," he stated, abruptly standing up and almost grabbing her hand. After a couple of minutes of hesitation, Hermione followed, whispers immediately being uttered as the two Gryffindors left the Halloween feast. There were still rumors of Harry's dark nature and the fact he had killed a Death Eater last summer. Most of his fellow Gryffindors appeared afraid and weary around him, and his professors – except Professor McGonagall – were suspicious of him as well. Malfoy had taken to mocking him, stating that he was now more of a Slytherin than ever and should join Voldermort and become a Death Eater.

" _Although that won't happen, because he wants to kill you, Potter!"_ Besides Alice and occasionally Luna, Harry was often only having Hermione by his side. The sixth year thought about his friend now, watching her as she was glancing at her textbooks anxiously, intent of finishing an assignment before it had was due a week from now, and smiled inwardly. Harry wondered how he felt about his friend. He remembered of how he felt nothing but desperation and grief when she had been hexed with that terrible spell. _It's my fault she's dead,_ Harry had thought desperately as he half dragged her body onto the floor. _It's my fault she's dead,_ the young wizard had thought over and over again until he had come in contact with France, who had stared at both of them with a grave expression and said something in French that Harry could not understand. It was only when Dr. Bondevik had pushed him to the edge to Harry explain of the horror and desperation he had felt when Hermione had nearly died, and of how, if she had died that day…he had told him that he would have made certain that he wouldn't have made a mistake.

Losing two of his best friends and his godfather was too much for him, the young wizard had said. But was it true? Often as Harry watched Hermione sleep, he felt a tenderness that he hadn't felt before, seeing her tired face against the flames and thinking of how lucky he was. Of how lost he would be without this beautiful woman by his side. Harry had stopped himself there, stunned by what he had thought. Did he truly see Hermione as beautiful? He had almost not had woken her then, seeing of how calm her face looked then. _Yes, she is beautiful._

The young man had thought. Harry had woken her, recognition in her eyes when she saw his face hovering over her own and of the peace that entered her expression. _I want to protect that face,_ Harry had thought then, sleepless not from the nightmares or simply emptiness, but of his feelings for Hermione. The sixth year Gryffindor thought of Ron, almost pleading for his dead friend to understand. Then, Harry had thought that if Ron truly loved Hermione, he would want her to be happy. _"When you love a person, their happiness is yours,_ " France had said one time when Harry had overheard him talking with Alice about his relationship with England. _"Your feelings…become bound to theirs." Is that how I feel?_ Harry wasn't sure. He had a crush on Cho Chang and perhaps he felt something for Hermione, but the young wizard wasn't certain. His parents had dated in their seventh year and had gotten married a year later. Their love had been true, if their pure happiness in their wedding photo had been any indication.

"Hermione." The witch turned towards him, her brown eyes surprised as she stared at the serious Harry. They were just outside the Gryffindor common room, and the Fat Lady was watching them curiously. The male Gryffindor swallowed, uncertain of what he was going to say. He had always been bad with words. "Hermione, I think I…" He forced himself to look into her eyes, noting now of how dark they were. The iris was almost completely obscured from the brown as dark as the bark of the forest trees. "I think I…like you."

For a moment, it appeared that Hermione wouldn't respond. She gaped at him, shock on her face and her eyes wide. "W-what?" she finally gasped.

"Hermione, you've always been there for me." Harry swallowed, his feelings building up inside and his desperation growing as the young witch continued to look at him in shock. "I would have been lost without you. And you've always been on my side. Always, even when…other people doubted me. I've always been Harry to you," the young man whispered, and he allowed himself to look into her eyes again.

"Harry." He looked and could see the shock morphing into a sad expression Harry realized he abhorred. "This isn't because Ron is dead, is it? Your protectiveness over me and your feelings, it's not –?"

"No." Harry was surprised by the sharpness in his voice, and noted of how Hermione flinched, and immediately inched closer to her. His shoulder touched hers, sitting down beside her as she looked at his face. "No, I know that whatever I feel, it is not because Ron is dead. I miss him, Hermione." Harry confessed, and she nodded at his raw expression. "Halloween was his favorite holiday, and I will always remember when Fred and George would cover our poster bed with fake spiders and on his pajamas. He would scream so loudly and I would have to peel them off, and always be red for the entire day and stuff himself with sweets until he almost burst."

"He didn't understand the concept of Muggle children wearing costumes, either," Hermione added. A faraway look appeared in her eyes. "He thought it was weird, and even though I always giggled whenever I saw his red face, Ron…" Hermione sighed and blinked away tears. "Ron always said that it was his favorite holiday because it was the last time when Percy actually smiled before…"

"I know," Harry whispered. He found that Hermione had her head bowed, and his hands entangled in her hair, brushing away the strands that were hiding her tears. "The same way that I know that I care for you in a different way I do with my parents and the Weasleys," he choked as he remembered of how Mrs. Weasley hadn't been able to look at him when he had exited the Hogwarts express, Ginny holding her by the arm. "I don't know if I love you, Hermione." His face lowered into her hair, and Harry breathed and smelled her hair. "I only know…that I will do anything to protect you. I…don't ever want you to be sad again…because it your tears make me want to cry."

The two of them continued to sit, breathing and connecting their hearts.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

 _A girl with blond hair was burning. She was praying to God, her whispers deaf onto the ears of the soldiers in front of her. The fire was reaching her legs, burnt flesh enveloping Alice's nostrils, the smoke invading her lungs. The girl continued to pray, her words never wavering or becoming feverish. Alice looked on, something close to resect coursing through her as it took the flames to reach her face for the girl to start to scream._

Alice's breath came in gasps as the memory was broken. Her hands shook, and sweat started to bead on her forehead as gasps continued to tear from her lungs. She had never seen that image before. Although Alice had seen many gruesome memories since Mum had transferred some of his memories to her, the image of Jeanne D'Arc burning and screaming on that day made the history seem all too real. Alice had seen her father from afar, watching the burning of his _amour_ , tears pelting down his face and his expression raw with grief. Through her mother's mind, she had seen of how her father had walked away, unable to hear the brave girl Jeanne D'Arc had been scream. Alice had seen England do terrible things – witness as a massacre of an Indian village burned to the ground, his citizens that had committed crimes condemned to die in what was now Australia's house, countless subjections of nations, Hong Kong crying as he was taken from China as Chinese curses followed the two, and see England's smile, the smile that appeared nothing but madness. This, however… Her parents hurting each other…was a wound that wouldn't fade.

"He did not blame me for her death," England whispered to Alice. She would not look at him despite hearing the agony in his voice. She could imagine his stricken expression. "He simply told me as I lied in his arms, delirious from pain and suffering a civil war that would occur two centuries later that it was history. There are actions that our citizens do that we are not proud of, and that every action our bosses makes does not reflect on who _we_ as nations are." He swallowed, and Alice could see at the corner of her eye that the island nation was struggling to find words. "Alice, you must remember this. As a nation, you will have to be strong. There will be times when you wish you did not exist, or pain will plague you until your only reality. There will be," and now Mum became somber as he looked at Alice's own emerald eyes, "betrayals. Wounds that will take decades or centuries to heal." His voice softened. "However, there are moments in history where the actions of our citizens do not reflect on us and who were are."

"Did you ever intentionally harm each other?" Alice asked. Her eyes were wet, and she could not control the emotion and the crack in her voice. "Did you…respect Jeanne D'Arc, Mum? For how she died?"

England paused for a moment. His hand wove through his blond hair for a moment, and a deep sadness and love appeared in his eyes. "France and I…have been enemies and rivals for centuries, as you know." Alice nodded. "However…there was not a not a time in which we intentionally hurt each other." Suddenly, his voice lowered and the nation spoke quietly as he contemplated the memory which Alice could see was surfacing in his mind. "Except for one time. At the time, I was physically thirteen years old, France only two years older. It was…after I had made my brother Wales as my servant."

A breath escaped from him, and Alice remembered of how remorseful he looked when Wales had declined for meeting with him and the other nations for the New Year's party last winter. According to Papa, although the wars had ceased in human's memory – _"In some," England had growled as he watched yet another protest for a separate Scottish state in a square in London –_ and the physical wounds had healed, the English nation and his brothers had an estranged relationship. Scotland had not spoken to his youngest brother in twenty years, and it had taken England's death to reach him before the older nation and his younger brother could begin finding peace. "I was told by my boss that France had…an alliance with Scotland. It truly hurt me to think that the one person who I trusted above all others would _betray_ me like that with a nation who had tormented my childhood." The scars were still there, Alice could see. For although her mother was outwardly calm, the second year Gryffindor could see of how the nation's hands twitched and of the faint grief in his emerald eyes as he spoke. "The alliance lasted about three hundred years, and that was when I tried to close of my heart to him…but I couldn't." England sighed and his emerald eyes bored into Alice's own.

"As for respecting Jeanne D'Arc? Yes, I respect her. She remains to be one of the humans I respect the most, for she was believed in freeing her homeland and was dauntless in the face of death." As Alice's expression became subdued and pensive, the nation reminded Alice of what he had told America. _Yes,_ Alice thought. _I know. I know this, and yet…every time I am with you, I find myself yearning for what cannot…happen._

"How is Harry?" Mum asked suddenly, and Alice broke away from her mourning thoughts to the dark-haired sixth year Gryffindor and a small smile caressed her face.

"I think he is better," Alice confessed, remembering of how closer Harry and Hermione seemed in the almost two months since Halloween. They had taken to talking into late at night, no longer only focusing on assignments, and the emerald-eyed girl thought she saw their hands entwined near the shadow of the fire. She remembered of how one day Harry had laughed, laughing at an attempt of humor Alice had made, and she had felt tears almost appear in her eyes as the sound. It was a beautiful sound, not one that the second year had heard much. Alice had seen Hermione blinking away her tears as well, a blissful smile on her face as they both heard the laughter of their friend. "I think…" Now she hesitated, and she was aware of her mother's curious stare. "I think Harry and Hermione are together."

"You _think_?" Mum's tone was not mocking but amused. "If you had your father's romantic sense, you would have been trying to make them a couple since last year."

"Mum?" _I heard Harry say this, but…_ Alice took a breath and asked a question that had been in her mind for a while. "Were you in Hogwarts when it was first opened?"

"I was." As Alice gaped in shock, she could see the nation softly smirk. "You don't have to look so surprised, love. Your father and Scotland and my brothers were there as well. Slytherin was all our House, but unfortunately we could not stay for long, as our duties as nations prevented us from…completing school."

"You must have been a good student," Alice said. England shook his head before softly smiling.

"I had a short temper and often was the headache of many of the founders. Although we were brothers, the rift we had had already deepened for other students to not recognize us as blood. France and I…although were officially annoyed with each other, were close and never left each other's side."

"Were you the student with the phoenix core?" Alice asked breathlessly as the information echoed in her mind. England looked at her in confusion. "Before I came to Hogwarts…an old wandmaker named Ollivander said that there was a brother to my wand, that had the exact same core as mine." Understanding appeared in her mother's expression, and his hand entered his pocket as Alice continued to explain. "He said that the wand looked exactly like mine," Alice continued to whisper. She curled her finger around her wand and held it into the air, expecting and yet not expecting of what she saw.

"I forgot that you have never seen my wand," England said as Alice's emerald eyes stared at the wand before her. "Most nations, except for France and my brothers, have seen my wand." It was exactly the same. Down to the shade of the wand and there was the same nick at the left side. Alice looked and saw that England was staring at her with tender eyes. "My wand is the same as yours, Alice. And my fate will also be yours when it occurs. We are connected, Alice. We are connected more than blood." Alice swallowed heavily, seeing the windows of her soul and the raw pain building inside as she stared at the face more precious than her own. "Which is why, when you hold this wand and feel its power, you will know that I will always be with you, Alice."

Alice licked her lips, feeling the salt again as if she had picked up her wand for the first time. The salt in her tongue continued until she realized that she was crying.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

Alice appeared to be smiling widely for some reason today. In the morning during breakfast, she had been normal, greeting Harry and Hermione politely as the two older students sat. The dark-haired wizard stared fondly at his newly found girlfriend, watching her as she began reading the _Daily Prophet_ before she began her breakfast. The mail began to arrive, with Alice's Pendragon flying down on his mistress' shoulder as the second year Gryffindor unrolled the parchment written by her parents. Her emerald eyes widened, and she began to read rapidly, her food now untouched as several other students, particularly Muggle-born, started to whisper. Harry could see the blond-haired girl begin to write, ink staining her fingers as she wrote messily on the page. _She must be really excited or something if she's writing like that._ Like Hermione, Alice was meticulous about everything. Even her handwriting had to be perfect. Which was why Hermione told him of how often Alice had three sets of parchment around her desk and had tried to tell her to relax. _"Ron's handwriting was atrocious, and Professor McGonagall seemed to fine with it,"_ the sixth year Gryffindor had tried to discourage the girl from writing the same two paragraphs twice, but in vain. Harry had wanted to say that Hermione had the same problem, but said nothing at the amount of assignments Hermione had and helped when he could.

"It's over!" Alice blurted out suddenly. The milk spilled over the _Daily Prophet_ , staining the image of the Prime Minister white. "It's finally over!"

"What's over, Alice?" Hermione asked with slight confusion as she tried to mop up as much milk as she could.

"The war," Alice continued breathlessly with a carefree smile. "It's over!"

Harry's heart jumped. "You mean Voldemort's been defeated?" he asked with bated breath.

Alice looked at him as if there was something wrong with his brain. Looking at her expression with her eyebrows furrowed, the dark-haired wizard thought of how alike the young girl looked like England.

"No, you rubbish-spewing idiot," Alice said as Hermione smiled lightly as Harry gaped. He never thought he would hear those words from the second year, knowing her to be extremely polite despite her usage of profanity. "The war in Ireland is over now!"

"That's…brilliant," Harry muttered, cursing himself for not knowing anything Muggle-related in the world. Suddenly Hermione beamed.

"You're saying that the conflict that started in Ireland has a peace treaty signed?" Hermione asked, an awe of a whisper in her voice. The younger girl nodded, beaming back. _What the bloody hell is going on?_ Harry wondered frustrated as he could hear others students whisper excitedly and some beginning to cry. Alice opened her mouth to speak, her bright eyes focusing on Harry's before there was a bellow from the Ravenclaw table. The student, a tall seventh year and Head Boy, was starting to dance in the Great Hall, laughing escaping from his lips like a child and several students joining him immediately, smiles against their faces. Before there could be anymore celebrations of whatever had happened however, there was an interruption.

"What is going on here?"

Harry glared at the sight of Snape, his dark cloak flowing behind him as the students suddenly stopped. Snape's cold eyes stared at the Ravenclaw students in contempt, and his voice was clipped.

"I thought Ravenclaw had much more… _wisdom_ than this," Snape hissed as his face turned toward the oldest of the students, who was starting to sweat. "Chambers. I had expected you to not embarrass yourself with this tomfoolery, but I was mistaken. You are Head Boy," Snape sneered as the strawberry blond male began to sweat more, Harry's eye narrowing at the sight of the other students shrinking back. "After all, was it not you who said that you would uphold all the rules of this school? Five points from Ravenclaw for this mess."

The Ravenclaw, Chambers, swallowed. "But sir–"

"Ten points," Snape stated in a monotone voice as Hermione was about to open her mouth hotly and Harry stood with anger burning in his stomach. Surprisingly however, it was Seamus who spoke.

"Me mam has relatives in Dublin, so she's happy they're safe." The sixth year Gryffindor that had once doubted Harry for telling the truth about Voldemort stood and faced the potions master. "Muggle affairs aren't really her thing, but she was happy that those who didn't have magic are safe now. There won't be any fighting no more."

"And what," Snape said dryly, "could be dangerous about Muggles?"

"Guns, professor." Harry stared at Alice, who was now standing and in fact walking towards the greasy-haired professor. Her eyes, once bright with joy, were burning. _Almost like fire,_ Harry thought as he watched Alice begin to speak, her voice sharp and quick. "Do you not know what those are? They're made out of metal and have bullets, also made out of metal that would make you bleed either to death or cause serious injury if it pierced your skin. There are also bombs, destructive and terrible weapons that have the capacity to kill hundreds or thousands of people." Looking at her now and hearing her speak, Harry could almost see England – then Professor Kirkland – explain furiously to his mocking Slytherin students _why_ Muggle history was important and of how deadly their wars could be. "Their weapons could maim or even kill you. Do you not know how many people have been _killed_ in this war that stems from the time before England was even a country?" The two older Gryffindors flinched, hearing the growing rage and disbelief in Alice's voice as her burning eyes refused to leave Snape's. "Do you know how many orphans have been made and people, whom _you_ call Muggles, died _because_ of this bloody mess that–!"

"That is quite enough, Miss Kirkland."

Harry turned and found Professor McGonagall walking towards the center of the Great Hall briskly, her face stern as she stared at the four students and fellow professor.

"Now," she said in a no-nonsense-tone as she looked into Alice's eyes with a withering glance at Snape, "what is going on?"

The seventh year Ravenclaw Chambers spoke. "The war is over, professor." Noting her confused gaze, he continued to explain. "There's been a series of terrorist attacks over Ireland and England since the late 1960s, stemming from the constitutional existence of Northern Ireland. Many people died, professor, including a number of witches and wizards over the years."

"And why did this happen, Mr. Chambers?" Professor McGonagall appeared to genuinely interested, as did several other students.

"In 1923, the state of Ireland was separated into two nations," Alice stated suddenly. Her voice had lost her anger, and was now calm and her clear voice echoed throughout the hall. "Ireland had suffered under the rule of England over many centuries, and began its war for independence shortly after World War I." Those who had listen to England last year – the presumed dead Professor Kirkland – nodded, and those who did not understand at all were looking intrigued. Harry almost laughed when he heard one of the younger students whisper, _"Muggles fight a lot with each other, don't they? I'm glad I'm not_ them _."_ Alice had a faraway look in her eyes, and Harry knew she was thinking about the _real_ England, her mother. "Ireland wanted the northern part of the country, which had ties to England – to become one with them again, but…Northern Ireland didn't want to."

"So the Muggles were fighting over something as stupid as that?" One student yelled, and several other laughed. Alice was not laughing, however. Her expression was sad, and Harry noted of how Hermione had not laughed either and was glaring at Snape as a sneer started to appear on his face.

"There's more to war than two sides," Alice said, almost speaking to herself than Professor McGonagall, who was pursing her lips and staring intently at the young girl. "There was chaos and confusion, and everyone ended up _hurting_ for more than thirty years." She paused and a sudden smile framed her face. "Last night at eleven o'clock, the prime minister of Britain and the leaders of Northern Ireland and Ireland met together, and a peace treaty was signed at six a.m. in the morning today on December 17, 1996." Harry was shocked to find tears running down Alice's face, and the seventh year Ravenclaw also wiping away premature tears. "It's over now."

"It appears to me that Muggles have their peace as well," McGonagall said with a faint smile. Harry and the other Gryffindors gaped. McGonagall _never_ smiled, and the entire room stared as the Transfiguration professor turned to the Ravenclaws. "Five points taken for starting this," she stated sternly. However, the witch stated then, "five points also for starting to describe the history of Muggles, Mr. Chambers." The seventh year Ravenclaw almost glowed, staring at the professor in gratitude and admiration as she turned toward Alice. "And as for you, Miss Kirkland," McGonagall stated as she glanced at the second year Gryffindor as she walked away, "ten points for describing the history of the Muggle history which interconnects with ours."

* * *

"Has Professor McGonagall always been different towards you?" Alice looked up from the book she was reading and stared at Hermione, who was looking at her with curious eyes.

"Yes." The blond haired emerald-eyed girl smiled inwardly as she remembered of Evangeline had smirked and had stated sarcastically that she liked to make it subtle. _"What is it with you and Muggle history anyway?"_ Alice could have told her friend the truth, or perhaps only part of the lie. Surely through the fact that she was her oldest friend out of the friends she had and Emyr's death had effected them both could cause the blond haired girl to trust her with her secret. But Matthew Winters, one of Evangeline's friends _"too mental to tolerate my presence"_ was listening, and so Alice had told her friend of why she was interested in the history of England, and Evangeline's quill had stilled as her friend explained the English history as best as she could as the two Slytherins with brown hair started to fall asleep. It was now the day they were to depart for the winter holidays, and Evangeline had actually held Alice tight, whispering her to have a good holiday, and she would say hello for her to her sister. Alice had blinked back tears and had been about to reply when Matthew bellowed for the second year to come to their compartment. Instead, the second year Gryffindor raised and waved her hand as the two departed. Now Alice was sitting in the compartment with Harry and Hermione, reading a book on the Thirty Years War when the bushy-haired girl spoke to her.

"Yes, I think so." Alice placed a thumb on her chin and frowned. "I think…she might have some inkling of who I was, because she was actually the one who came the day I got my Hogwarts letter and told me I was a witch." Alice's face fell for a moment, remembering the day of which had seemed such a perfect day. The two older Gryffindors were silent and patient, knowing that Alice was thinking about her human parents. It had been a year ago since Alice had heard the hateful words in her mind, but the girl often remembered the fond memories before she knew that she was the daughter of England and France. The harsh memory that would once make her still and cause tears from her eyes only could a shadow of sadness to caress her heart. It still bled…just less than before. "I was surprised that Mum went to school when it was first founded," Alice said as she remembered of how the blond nation had showed her his wand, identical to her own. "Papa went there as well, and he wasn't able to go to school that long because of his duties as a nation."

"Why did the peace really come, Alice?" Hermione asked as Harry looked alarmed. _I thought she would figure it out,_ Alice thought as she remembered the contents of her mother's letter. "It just seems…out of place. Why, all of a sudden, now? I thought America was an attention-hog."

Alice laughed. "It is true. America _is_ an attention-hog, and he would love to say to England that he had been the hero." Her face became serious. "The real reason why the peace happened so abruptly was because of England's death. Somehow one of the nations told my uncles that their youngest brother was dying…so I suppose you could say they realized what a bunch of bloody wankers they had been for the past thirty years and decided to reconcile with him."

"Are you really okay, Alice?" Hermione asked as the younger girl looked outside the window as the snow fell and the clouds floated in the air. "I mean…since last year, you've lived with England, right? It must be terribly hard deep down inside knowing that he's not going to be there one day."

"I know." The two older Gryffindors were shocked to find that Alice looked strangely peaceful. "When I started knowing him and seeing him every day or every month, I thought that I couldn't bear the thought of not seeing him again." A smile lifted across her face as she pulled out her wand and caressed the wood. "He told me, however, that with this wand, which was identical to his, Mum would always be with me when I felt the surge of the feelings from it."

* * *

Harry waved goodbye to Hermione as she walked from the platform. For some reason Harry did not want to move just yet. He was content to watch the students come from the train, watching them chat excitedly with and embrace each other. The snow was falling, leaving the melted cold on his cheeks. _Beautiful,_ he mused. _I wonder if Dr. Bondevik will be there when we arrive._

Harry was broken out of his thoughts by Alice's hand reaching his.

"Let's go home, Harry."

 _Home…_ he thought. Had he ever had a home? Yes, he had. Hogwarts. That was his home. But…Alice and her strange family had taken him in when no one else would. Everyone, excluding Hermione and select other people, had disbelieved him and shunned him. It was his nation that had welcomed him, and healed him, as if…he was his own son.

 _Home…_ he thought. Harry took Alice's hand in his and smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

 _"Signora_ Alice!" Italy was the first one to hug the second year Gryffindor, squeezing the air out of her lungs as the Italian nation babbled loudly into her ear.

 _I think I should tell him that he's speaking in Italian, and I can't understand him but…_ Alice could see Harry's surprised emerald eyes against her back, and felt Italy pet her soft hair as he continued to blissfully embrace the future nation. _But I'm fine with how I am now._

"Italy!" A voice with a German accent echoed into her ears as she became aware of the Italian's arms being lifted from her waist. The blond haired girl found Germany looking at her apologetically, giving a stern glare to his auburn-haired friend before turning to her again. "I apologize to him again. He has been…eager to be reacquainted with you. I fear that you might have been uncomfortable."

"I'm fine, Germany." Alice said quietly as the tall German nation looked at the acceptance in her eyes. The girl knew that for most nations – particularly those who were proud and former empires – did not enjoy Italy's ceaseless displays of affection, but Alice enjoyed the nation's carefree and gentle temperament. "I've missed Italy as well." A sudden vein popping in Germany's forehead made Alice pause as she heard the curses of Italy's twin brother. "Did they try to insist on having Seven Fishes for Christmas again?" she whispered.

Germany nodded, his pale blue eyes exasperated as furious Italian started to become heard from where they stood in the doorway. The nation moved to allow Alice and Harry inside, carefully shutting the door as the light blond explained he had enough Seven Fishes in the past decades, and was looking forward to having something…unrelated to pasta.

"Ah," Germany said shortly as Harry came into view. The young English wizard slightly flinched, slightly dismayed at the height and muscles the nation sported. "You must be Herr Herwald." When the Gryffindor blinked and remained confused, the tall German nation shortly explained. "That is the German translation of your name." Suddenly there was a loud crash and wails from a familiar Italian. The German cursed under his breath, leaving Alice and Harry alone for the time being.

"Err…that was the nation Germany?" Harry asked with a nervous glance at the kitchen as shouts were heard. Alice looked at him sympathetically.

"Germany may be intimidating, but I heard he's quite kind, especially to Italy."

Harry nodded. Alice was about to walk into the house further when she found a pair of arms around her neck, almost taking her off the ground. The height and material of the jacket alerted Alice of who the person was, and she prepared herself.

"Alice! Your favorite uncle Al is here!" America released the young girl from his embrace, and the blond-haired girl inwardly laughed as Harry slightly moved away in slight dismay and horror. "I see you've brought the human with you too! His name's Harold, right?" Without giving Alice or Harry a chance to reply, the light brown-haired nation smiled and started to hyperactively talk again. "You're lucky this year, because the freakish commie bastard isn't here! The hero saved the day, as usual!" Alice heard Harry quiet a snort of disbelief. "Alice, your uncles are here too! I haven't seen them in like, one hundred years, so–"

"Wait." Alice's whisper stopped America's hyperactive talking, and her emerald eyes were wide as she stared at the tall American nation. "Ireland and North…are here?"

"Yeah." America's smile thinned, calm now as she stared at the future England. "They're talking with Iggy right now. Besides," he snickered and a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes, "there's no way _we_ would let Iggy do the cooking."

America bellowed a goodbye to them as he went to bother some unfortunate nation. Alice almost choked on her laughter when Harry whispered darkly to himself that he would never go to America. The two found themselves surrounded by nations, either ones that Alice had meet the year before or those whose faces she didn't recognize, and the girl gave them a distracted wave as she started to walk towards the closed door, to where hopefully Mum and his estranged siblings were talking quietly.

 _"Konnichiwa,_ Alice- _san._ " Alice smiled at the sound of the familiar voice and turned.

"Japan!" she shouted brightly. The Japanese nation bowed slightly, and Alice noted that his former beige kimono that he wore last year was replaced by a dark blue with prints of chrysanthemums, gold in color, and a matching obi. "It is good to see you again."

 _"Hai,"_ the small nation said with a faint smile on his lips. "Asa- _san_ will be pleased to have his daughter return to her family home."

"Asa?" Alice echoed, not recognizing the name and now used to the odd way Japan spoke. The Asian nation was considered an old friend to Mum, and such during the summer, the Japanese nation would visit the Kirkland-Bonnefoy household for tea and simple conversation. Alice and Papa often left the two nations alone, but sometimes Alice and her father would sit with the calm and wise dark-haired nation.

A faint blush ordained Japan's cheeks, and he began to look flustered. "It is…what I call England, Alice- _san_. His human names translates in a way that my people find easier to say than most Western names, and what is more…" The Asian nation started to hesitate, but at the curious look both Alice and Harry were giving him, the nation continued. "His name can also translate as morning, which is his favorite part of the day, actually."

"How do you say my name in Japanese?" Alice asked.

Japan looked at her in surprise, but complied after a couple of moments. "Your name would be…Arisu, written in katakana, like Asa- _san_ 's." Japan took out slip of white paper from his kimono and began to write. _It's beautiful,_ Alice thought as she looked at the phonics. She smiled after looking at it for a couple of moments and asked Japan if he could call her that from now on.

"It sounds beautiful," Alice said as Japan bashfully nodded. His dark brown eyes followed around the room until he found Harry and gasped.

"Harry- _san_ , I apologize for the delay, but…" Japan reached into his kimono again and Alice raised her eyebrow as his slim fingers held a small package wrapped in wrapping paper. "It came straight from my house, and I translated it for you." Alice's confusion further intensified when she saw the excitement on Harry's face, more so when the package revealed to be…a book? It looked too small to be a book, and there were several people on the cover. One that caught Alice's interest was the man with bandages covering his entire body, his hair coming in tufts. There was a man wielding a sword with orange hair and blue eyes with several cuts bleeding. The blond haired girl with emerald eyes noted of how Japan appeared to be looking at the book with pride.

"This is…?" Alice audibly wondered.

" _Rurouni Kenshin_." It surprised Alice of how excited Harry seemed as he continued to stare at the book. "It's a manga series, and Japan gave the first four volumes to me for…my help." A genuine expression of gratitude appeared in his eyes as he looked at Japan. "At first, I read it because I was bored, but I actually started to like the series. And Japan started mailing me a couple volumes every month."

"Is that why Hedwig always carried a strange package every month since school started?" Alice asked almost incredulously.

"I thought a series about redemption and loss and living life despite losses could help Harry- _san_ ," Japan said kindly as he stared at the English human who was staring at the manga in his hands with an almost revered expression.

"I never though Japanese Muggles could be this amazing," Harry murmured as he began to open the pages.

"Haven't I helped you as well, Mr. Potter?" A cold aura was felt by Alice and Harry flinched as Norway came into view. Despite his expressionless eyes, the nation clutched Harry's shoulder as the sixth year Gryffindor found himself intimidated. Alice smiled in amusement as she briefly watched their interaction before she started walking towards the door again. She could hear faint voices beyond the door, and opened it slightly as barbed words were exchanged.

"We have gone through this a _million_ times, Ireland, and I–"

"The dead are still whispering in my ear, you bastard Englishman!"

"Oi, brats, quiet down here," growled a familiar Scottish accent. "Some of us are trying to get some sleep!"

" _Why_ did you have to bribe me to sign that treaty, you uncouth limey?" Alice swallowed, trying to ignore the heat pooling in her stomach at the sound of the slur, and opened the door to find England standing on his two feet as a man with dark brown hair and ice-blue eyes continued to shout. He was wearing a complete Irish National Army uniform with the hat and the golden buttons, and was glaring at the English nation. "And Allistor, you're always hug over so shut up!"

"Calm down, please!" Alice could see another nation, identical to the other his twin glared at him. "This isn't helping matters, and England –"

Ireland growled darkly in Gaelic, making his twin flinch and England narrow his eyes, the aura Alice had previously seen begin to surface. Scotland was frowning, the tiredness gone from his face, and the blond-haired girl stiffened as the English nation began to speak the gargled language to Ireland, his voice grave and low.

"I was _trying_ to help my wayward little brother see the error of your ways, England, but it seems to have come for naught, as he is still sucking –!"

"Not in front of the bairn, Liam!"

Ireland's ice-blue eyes widened, and he turned towards the door and gaped at the figure standing awkwardly by the door.

"Hello," she whispered. Her emerald eyes searched for her mother's, and she could see the regret and grief in his gaze. Before she could speak again, or England could speak, Ireland's eyes bored into her own for a mere moment before smirking.

"So this is my new tormentor," he stated, before brushing her aside roughly and slamming the door. England yelled at him to come back, but the Irishman didn't come.

"I apologize for my twin," stated the nation who had attempted to calm the situation. Alice noted that he was wearing the same uniform as England despite his contractedly different appearance. The emerald eyed student flinched when she heard the sharp yells of Gaelic in the snow, seeing the Irish nation unleash his rage in the snow. "I thought that when we met England for the first time in thirty years, my older brother could let go of the past. I'm the closet to our youngest brother, and it was very difficult in former decades." A sad expression framed as face. "Liam still hasn't allowed the past to be the past."


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

"If it is anyone's fault for the current situation, it is mine." Alice looked up to find Mum walking across the room to his older brother. His face contained deep regret and sadness. "I am sorry."

"I think the bunch of you are idiots." The British Isles turned abruptly to the voice, and Alice found herself shocked when a nation looking eerily similar to England – The same shade of blond in his hair, the same emerald eyes, and similar height – standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and frowning. "Britannia would be ashamed of all of you."

 _"Cymru!"_ Alice recognized it as the native name for Wales, and observed that the nation was wearing an old uniform – older than the ones his brothers wore. _It looks like from the Middle Ages…before England took over Wales in the thirteenth century,_ Alice thought. Suddenly, she realized that Wales was speaking again and only caught the end of the sentence.

"…I heard that _Lloegr_ was dying, so I decided to come." The nation's emerald eyes focused on Alice then, and she stiffened under his boring gaze. "You are…my niece, correct?"

"Y-yes," the blond-haired girl whispered. She was still when Wales suddenly cupped her chin with his hand, his fingers cold to the touch. It had been many months since Voldemort had touched her, but Alice still felt her breath hitch and reminded herself that this person was not an enemy. She looked at her uncle, noticing subtle differences between him and Mum. Wales' hair was calmer, and lay flattened on his head, a few stray curls around his ears. She found that his eyes were slightly lighter, almost the color of a stem of daffodils that she secretly loved, and his face was thinner and dark shadows were under his eyes. Suddenly he smiled, and Alice almost thought she was looking at someone else before he pulled away and nodded to England.

"How long has it been?" Scotland drawled, and Alice could see her uncle scratching his ginger beard absentmindedly. "At least one hundred years since we actually came into the room without trying to kill each other." He gave out a laugh as his gaze lowered onto Alice's. "And that's all thanks to the princess!"

"I'm not a princess!" Alice yelled, feeling warmth against her cheeks as Scotland continued to laugh and as a small smile caressed Northern Ireland's face. Mum was smiling as well, a look of… _happiness_ on his face that even Alice had not seen before. _Papa said that Mum used to be so lonely, bottling the emotions inside until he couldn't take it anymore. Papa said…the island nation could only focus on the past, when he had been close to his brothers, and when the entire world didn't despise him._ "I'm not a princess," Alice continued to protest, feeling her cheeks continue to blush. _Is he not lonely anymore?_ The blond-haired girl thought at the sight of her mother's smiling face. _I'm glad…I'm so glad that you're not lonely anymore, Mum._

"Who is the oldest?" Alice asked when Scotland had stopped teasing. She was sitting beside her mother, looking across at the three nations in front of her with slightly wary eyes. _They must think of me as an idiot because I have no idea!_ "I think Wales is the oldest, but…"

"Actually," Wales said with a slight glance at Scotland, "I'm the second oldest. The twins, Ireland and North, are younger than us. England is the youngest," he said with a slight smile. "I remember when he was born. He cried so much it makes me wonder of how he became one of the strongest empires in the world." Beside him, Scotland snickered, and Alice listened with increasing curiosity. "He always wanted us to hold him, didn't he, Allistor?"

"Oh, yes." Alice could see her mother attempting to hold in his anger as Scotland looked over him with laughter in his eyes. "Not a day went by when our wee little brother wanted us to hold him and pick him up."

"He was very cute then," Northern Ireland stated with a vague wistfulness in his eyes. "Albion would always ride on my shoulders, his little face trying to see the world above him."

"You were always the closet to him, North." Alice was surprised to hear the tenderness in the Scottish nation's voice. "That's probably why you chose to stay with him when you had to choose between him and your twin."

There was a brief silence, but there was no tension felt in the air. Alice could see the same expressions of nostalgia across the brothers' faces, including England's.

"You were always trying to be kind to me, North," England stated as he looked across at his dark-haired brother, the ice-blue eyes widening in shock. "Even when they used to pelt me with stone and arrows, you would always try to find me and patch me up…if France hadn't found me first," he said with a chuckle. "Despite of what our bosses did to our houses and our people, and what we did to each other, you forgave me. That is not an easy thing to do," the nation continued to say with sadness in his voice, and Alice knew he was thinking about the day in the rain when he had cried, a young teenage America by his feet. _"Go raibh maith agat,"_ he murmured softly in Gaelic as tears started to trail down his brother's cheeks. England sighed. "You're always a crybaby, aren't you?"

"You were a crybaby too when you were young as well, _brawd bach._ " Wales said as Alice watched as her mother stiffened.

There was a sudden crash in the dining room with a familiar German shouting and laughter.

 _America did something again, didn't he?_ Alice thought as she warily saw her mother and his brothers stand and open the door. The room was as chaotic as Alice and the others expected it to be. Unless of course, a fallen Christmas tree with a baby polar bear running on its two feet with its fur splattered with pancake batter with an enraged Canadian chasing the creature around the room, was normal. _What the bloody hell…is going on?_ Alice thought as she stayed by the door as England and his brothers moved across to the center of the room. At the corner of her eye, she could see Norway and Harry sitting in one of the furniture, the Norwegian appearing displeased with a rather apathetic expression as the Gryffindor sixth year looked at the scene in dismay. _I have to deal with these_ idiots _for who knows how long,_ Alice thought as she continued to hear America's laughter across the room. _My God, please give me patience!_ Suddenly, the room eerily quieted and Alice gasped at the sight near the door. Ireland was lying by the door, his back slightly hunched as his four brothers came to his side. The Irishman's face was smeared with blood and ice, his knuckles raw with peeling flesh. His right arm lay awkwardly by his side.

"America!" Alice inwardly shuddered as she heard the icy tone in England's voice, as cold as the ice under Ireland's fingernails. "What did you bloody do to my brother?"

"He kept on calling you bad names, Iggy!" The American protested. His blue eyes were wide, and Alice could see with shock that the other nations, including Germany, were nodding. "He kept on screaming that you were a disgrace as a nation, and that you don't deserve to be forgiven for what you did to him!" Anger was seeping into the American's voice, and his fists became clenched as his right hand held a small black gun. "Hell, I forgave you and whats-his-face burned down the White House, and _he_ can't forgive you for something in the eleventh century or something! It's not right!"

 _Poor Canada,_ Alice thought as she saw the familiar figure crouch down by Prussia as the ex-nation softly stroked his hair. _America can't even remember his brother's name, and he's his_ twin _._

"I agree with America," Germany intoned as Italy stood beside him. "His methods might be extreme, but I firmly believe that a nation must be forgiven for his or her actions in the past. After all," the light blond haired nation said with a sigh, "it was not long ago that I was your enemy with Hitler and Grindeldwald." _Grindelwald?_ Alice thought as she watched Norway's façade break as dark anger suddenly emerged in his expression. _Who is that?_

"Yeah, thank goodness Japan's magical school wasn't involved in the war, or a crazy German dude who thought our non-magical citizens were inferior or something!"

"America- _san_ ," Japan said with a faint blush to his cheeks, his face slightly hidden from view, "I do believe that you also have a magical school as well, but you do not acknowledge it, correct? Some of my magical citizens fought in the war, and although the school is not as numerous as England- _san_ 's –"

"Hey, it's not my fault that the Salem Witch Trials happened!" America protested. "The magical people didn't want to be involved in that war either!"

"Have you forgotten, America," Mum said with an icy tone still in his voice, "that _my_ magical citizens were burned as well during the reign of Bloody Mary?"

"You were just too old to not try anything else, Iggy!" Unfortunately for America, he did not realize of how insulted the "old" nations were. Alice slowly backed away as even Ireland stood with a dark aura.

"What is going on here?" Alice looked above and saw her father wearing very expensive clothes with his blond hair combed and reaching his shoulders. _"Anglettere_?"

"Papa!" Alice called. The Frenchman smiled at his daughter, walking down the stairway until she was held in his arms. "I have missed you, _mon petit_ ," he whispered as his blue eyes shone with happiness. Abruptly he released his embrace and walked towards her mother, his gait surprisingly serious as opposed to his usual loving and gentle movements.

"Arthur." The pronunciation of the name was as gentle and loving as love could be, and Ireland moved away from his brother as France suddenly kneeled down by the nation's feet and looked deeply into his eyes. "Arthur," he whispered the name again, like a caress. "You and I have known each other as long as we lived in the earth. We have…been through so much, you and I. Wars, famines, and self-destructive bosses that almost succeeded in destroying our precious bond." The nations in the room stilled, their eyes only on the two standing in the room. England's expression was somewhat confused and yet loving still as he stared at the French nation. "Since that day we have been allies, and when…you said yes to me, when you told me in my own language which you had said he hated that you loved me, I…have always stood beside you." France's voice became thick, and he swallowed, looking deeply into the emerald eyes of the nation he loved. "And now I ask… _mon couer et mon amour_ …"

A small velvet box was pulled out of France's pocket, and he opened it to reveal a ring made out of silver with a small emerald center, shining in the pale sun that shone.

"Will you marry me?"


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

"Will you marry me?"

The question was whispered but it seemed that it was so far away. England – no, Arthur – looked into Francis' eyes and could see nothing but the pale blue depths that bored into his own. _What is he thinking?_ A small voice in his head whispered. _Is he thinking of only doing this because I am dying?_ Another part of him, however, was soaking in the pure feelings he felt, thinking only, _Oh, Francis…_

How could he have fallen in love with such a nation? A nation who believed in his own narcissism that he believed he was the most beautiful in the world? A nation who abhorred his clothes getting his clothes the slightest wrinkle, obsessed with anything but beauty and romance? Arthur knew, however. Japan would say that a red-string of fate bound them together, and the island nation thought it was true. Despite being enemies, despite their wars and arguments against each other, Arthur knew that he and Francis knew each other more than they knew themselves. They had met in the Roman Empire's house, both alone and afraid, one very small and crying nation having lost his mother. It was Francis who had been there to guide him, to be his light when there was no happiness where they lived. They had played together so much as children after the Roman Empire died they had almost forgotten they were nations. It was his brothers who reminded him what he was, and that it was his fault that Britannia had died. They pelted him with stones and arrows, the future Northern Ireland most often not finding him, having found Francis waiting for him by the river and comforting him.

Arthur remembered of when Francis had first kissed him. It had been during the plague, when both of them thought they were going to fade away and disappear. Francis that thought that the feverish nation was asleep, and so the soft and warm lips found them against lips cracked and coated with blood. It was quick, almost unnoticeable, but Arthur remembered Francis' shock when the young Englishman moved his lips against his, the emerald eyes open. It was 1312. Although he often cursed the Frenchman dead as the centuries passed, it remained one of Arthur's most treasured memories. When he had made love to his Bess, she had asked him many times who he thinking of when his eyes looked out into the sky. He had told her with a heavy heart that he was thinking of her, but both human and nation knew that the English nation was not telling the truth. It took only a month of living with Francis that Arthur realized that he had been thinking of the French nation all those centuries ago.

Their bosses had not been pleased with their undisguised animosity to each other, and ordered them to stay in the same cottage in the _French_ countryside to bond. The nations both could not comprehend why their bosses had decided to make them endure this catastrophe of a lost alliance. _Germany isn't a threat,_ Arthur had thought as he watched the Frenchman through narrowed eyes cooking a small breakfast. _Russia…is concerning, but there is no reason for me to be in an alliance with the frog!_ It took only a month for Arthur to be deeply in love with Francis. He didn't understand, but Francis had simply looked at him with his beautiful blue eyes and asked him if love ever needed a reason.

 _"Do you love me then, Francis?"_ Arthur had almost inaudibly whispered. He found his hands entwined with the Frenchman's and saw that Francis was smiling at him.

His only answer had been a kiss. It was sweet and gentle, and Arthur found himself lost in the bliss as he stroked Francis' beautiful hair. As he lay beside the nation as Francis serenely slept, the soft sheets caressing his skin as he pulled his fingers through his hair, the English nation wondered of how deep their love would go as he softly kissed the forehead of the sleeping nation beside him, his own eyes closing as happiness warmed him.

Then came four wars that tested their bond. Two non-magical, the other fought by a people most considered to be obsolete. Arthur remembered of how Francis held him, soothing French words in his ears as blood splattered across his front. The only relief to his pain had been Francis.

And then…Alice. The child had been conceived on a cold winter day in February, and Arthur had not understood of why his body was reacting the way it had until Greece had told them the truth. He had held Francis as he sobbed, tears filling his own eyes as he thought about the unfairness of their situation. _I had too hoped…that we would spend more time together._ But it was not to be. Arthur came to treasure every moment that they had, with Francis fussing over him, and the changes in his body, seeing of how more alike he looked to his beloved mother when the magic in his body forced his gender to temporarily change. He found Francis' kisses and soothing words to be a lullaby, and was content to the knowledge that he would have… _this_ for his memories. Alice had been born in the morning of April eighth. Arthur – or Elizabeth as he was known then – was soaking with sweat with Francis holding his hand on the right and brushing sweat from his eyes on the left as Greece delivered the now twelve year old girl who stood before them. Her cries had awoken something in him, and when the nation held the baby in his arms – soft blond hair silky to the touch and emerald eyes – that he did not regret at all what was to come.

Arthur had broken his promise, and Alice had stayed with them during the first three months of her life. He enjoyed simply watching her, or see Francis hold her in his arms as he sung a soft French lullaby. Arthur knew that the baby would not remember him – either of them. And yet her very existence made it so hard for both her mother and father to let her go…until it was time. Arthur remembered carrying her in his arms, his body back to normal now as he heard Francis sob. He had taken precautionary measures. Alice was now the size of a newborn, her hair as fine as it had been shortly after birth. Arthur had set the pocket watch that his dear Bess had given him, allowing himself to look at his daughter one last time before going away.

Now as Arthur stared at his love, the words fumbled in his mind. All the memories they had created – through war, agony, love, and comfort – flowed through his mind. The image of Alice swaddled in his arms, her tiny pink face admired by her mother and father echoed through his mind. _Francis…_ Making love to him. Telling him he loved him. Being by his side. Holding his hand. Crying together when they found their beloved daughter again. Arthur found that he was crying, with tears pelting down his cheeks, warm and thick, but he found he did not care.

Arthur moved forward, allowing his limbs to take him where his mind solely desired.

" _Oui, je vais_ _vous épouser_ _,_ " he whispered. Arthur brushed his forehead against Francis', feeling impossible feelings of love flow through him as they kissed.

The room cheered.


	11. Chapter 11

Heavy spoilers for _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows_.

* * *

 _Chapter 11_

 _"Before this Voldemort came about, Mr. Potter, there was an even darker wizard." Dr. Bondevik paused and looked backward at the German nation before continuing with his voice lowered. "His name," the nation hissed with great rage, his once-calm hands harshly clenched into fists as his eyes smoldered, "was Gellert Grindelwald." Harry gaped, the psychiatrist/national personification of Norway staring at him in almost contempt. "You do not know very much at all, Mr. Potter. For he was not alone in his darkness. His closest confident and friend…Albus Dumbledore."_

 _"Dumbledore?" Harry rasped, thinking perhaps he hadn't heard right and perhaps Dr. Bondevik had misspoken. But there was no confusion in the nation's dull blue eyes. "How…?" Anger at the nation smoldered inside him, and he leaned towards his face in Norway's direction, hissing, "You can't be–!"_

 _"They had a falling out," the nation suddenly stated, staring into Harry's impossibly wide emerald eyes. "Your current headmaster defeated Grindelwald the same year the non-magical war was won in my house." A faraway look suddenly appeared in his eyes. "I wonder why it took thirteen years…to finally face him…"_

"Harry?" The sixth year Gryffindor looked up, finding the said professor in his thoughts looking at him in concern. "Is everything alright?"

 _How could this wizard…_ Harry thought as he stared at the headmaster he admired so much. How could he have not realized this sooner? Hermione would reprimand him for having such thoughts and being narrow-minded, but his churning thoughts were only on the aging wizard before him.

"Grindelwald." The name was whispered, and Harry allowed himself to look into Dumbledore's eyes and saw not a flicker of emotion. "Did you know him…Professor?"

"Whatever do you mean, Harry?" The calmness from his voice was starting to irritate Harry, and he lost control of the conflicting emotions that had been buried inside during the weeks since he had talked with Dr. Bondevik.

"Did you know Gellert Grindelwald, Professor?" Harry shouted. His words vibrated around the office. "Did you know of what he was doing, to Muggles, and to everyone else?" He could see sadness in the professor's face, and that was enough for him in his mind. "Were you–"

"Sit down please, Harry." Dumbledore was now sitting on his desk, his hands entwined with one another, and staring at the young dark-haired wizard calmly through his half-moon glasses. Reluctantly, Harry sat. He could see that the professor's hands were slightly shaking.

"I…will explain everything. Because you have steadily learned about Voldemort, it is required that you also know about the wizard he attempted to illuminate." The professor swallowed heavily. "His name was Gellert Grindelwald, as you know, and he was…my friend."

"Professor," Harry said hotly, "how could you be friends with such a dark–"

"Do not interrupt, Harry." The young wizard quieted, hearing the uncharacteristic sternness in Dumbledore's voice. "The answer will come with time. It started with my sister, Ariana." Dumbledore noted of how Harry looked at him in shock. "Most people still do not know I had a sibling younger than my brother, but it is true." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Ariana was only six years old when she was attacked by Muggles. They harmed her irreversibly, similar to Mr. Longbottom's parents. My father, enraged and grieved for what had happened to his youngest, killed them." There was a pause. "He was sent to Azkaban, and he died there shortly after."

Harry stared at his professor, his expression shocked and numb to what he had just heard. The young wizard was stunned at what happened to the youngest Dumbledore, wondering what had possessed the Muggles to attack a six year old witch, who couldn't control her magic. Then Harry thought about of how he had watched the Muggle news the summer before, and thought about the violence he had seen them do to each other. _Muggles are violent and narrow-minded people,_ Harry thought to himself.

"My mother nursed Ariana until her death. My younger sister couldn't control her magic…and one of the spells collided with my mother. She was…not as young as she used to be," Dumbledore stated with sorrow. "It was during that summer of 1898 that I met Grindelwald." There was a heavy pause, and Harry noted of how the professor seemed to hesitate before he stated the dark wizard's name. "The wizard that became one of the darkest wizards was, at that time, I thought, someone who understood me. He understood my doubts about Muggles and our secrecy. The German wizard from Durmstrang understood me when I could not understand myself. And I, being a fool, took in his every word, as if it was something precious to carry."

"He believed in world domination, Professor." Harry said in hushed whisper. It sounded as if Dumbledore had been similar to the professors and students at Hogwarts who could only see the perfect and charismatic Tom Riddle. "He…was worse than Voldemort. So how could you _think_ of…?" Harry didn't attempt to control the rage growing inside him. "My psychiatrist told me that because his house was neutral in the war, he fought in the wizarding war. It was much longer than World War II, and so many people died."

Harry bit his lip and remembered the detached expression on the Norwegian's face when he told him about how wizards simply attacked one another, either against Grindelwald or with him. _"Taking along some non-magical citizens as well," Dr. Bondevik stated with a deep sigh. "It was complete chaos, unlike the other war. Humans killing each other wherever they went. And it took thirteen years for the war to end, Mr. Potter. With the battle between two former friends."_ There was something in Dr. Bondevik's expression that made the sixth year Gryffindor wonder if something more had been going on. "He wanted to make Muggles into _slaves_."

"He did, Harry." Dumbledore pushed his glasses up to his nose, and Harry stared. There was naked grief and regret in his eyes. "That was why we fought. We fought…and because of that, I do not know which one of us did it, but one of our spells hit Ariana when she tried to stop us." A deep silence intoned, and Harry knew that it meant that Ariana did not survive. "I did not see my former friend for decades, and I did not confront him until it would be too shameful not to…because I was afraid." Harry stared into the professor's mournful eyes. "I was afraid that when I confronted him, we would finally knew who killed my sister."

"How can I trust you're telling the truth?" Harry blurted, and then inwardly cringed. Dumbledore, however, gave him a small smile.

He led Harry to the pensive. The emerald-eyed wizard watched as the professor pulled a strand of his hair with his wand and lowered it into the watery-substance. Harry looked towards the professor, and saw nothing in his eyes that could tell him what he was thinking.

 _Harry found himself surrounded by trees. They were lush and green with the sunlight blinking beneath the two figures sitting on the bench. Harry could see a young wizard – around his age or younger – with auburn hair and blue eyes watching the figure across from him intently. He was wearing dark blue robes, and Harry noted that the other young wizard was wearing black. He had blond hair and his fingers were moving across a page, his mouth moving as he whispered to himself. Harry could see that the auburn-haired wizard looked at the young man's mouth as he whispered words in a foreign language. His blue eyes never leaving the young man's face until he jumped with a start._

 _"What's wrong, Al?" Harry started. The blushing young wizard attempted to look across at his friend but failed. He hung his head, and Harry stared at the much younger Dumbledore._

 _"N-nothing, Gel." The teenage Albus Dumbledore hesitantly looked across at his friend. Harry observed, not certain what he expected to find. He had not imagined the future dark wizard to be so…carefree. The German smiled, allowing his white teeth to show, and Harry noted of how a blush continued to ordain the teenage Dumbledore's features. "Are you reading that again?"_

 _"Don't change the subject, Al." The dark wizard's voice was teasing, and Harry observed of how the young Dumbledore shyly ran his fingers through his hair. "What are you thinking about?"_

 _Harry watched as the dark wizard's face leaned toward a teenage Dumbledore's. The auburn-haired man seemed to stiffen as his friend continued to look at him curiously, his own blue eyes boring into the young man's._

 _"I…was thinking about the greater good," the teenager stated almost breathlessly, and Harry thought that he almost looked disappointed when the dark wizard pulled away._

 _"The greater good," the dark wizard with blond hair drawled. He smiled lazily at his friend. "Yes." Suddenly, a serious expression came on his face, and the Durmstrang student whispered, his hands almost reaching Dumbledore's. "I need you, Albus."_

 _The expression on a teenage Dumbledore's face made Harry want to shake himself. Where else had he seen that expression before? How many times had he heard France whisper something French in England's ear when they thought they were alone, and of his own relationship with Hermione?_

 _"Gellert." The German stared at Albus, not hearing the nickname Harry supposed they had fashioned for each other. "I just…want to say…that I –"_

 _"ALBUS!" Harry started, as did the teenage Dumbledore. The young dark wizard appeared more annoyed than concerned, and he stood with a scowl as a younger boy with the same auburn hair as a teenage Dumbledore ran towards them._

Time seemed to stop when Harry found himself in the headmaster's office. He could see that the headmaster was sitting at his desk, his expression unknown to Harry as the young wizard stood before him.

"You loved him."

It was not a question.

"I loved the young man who could make me laugh and smile when no one else could," Dumbledore corrected. His voice was calm. "I loved the young man who shared secret smiles with me, and who told me of his life as a child in Germany. The man who stood before me when I fought was not the boy I loved." The aged headmaster looked at Harry, his demeanor now calm. "I did not hate Muggles, Harry. I simply thought of them as a people who were ignorant, who did not know any better, and should be servants to the people I believed had a right to not live in secrecy." He sighed. "I had realized when Ariana died that I was wrong. And I have tried to make up for my mistakes since that day in 1945."

"I do not ask you to understand, Harry."

Harry swallowed, the words Professor Dumbledore had told him raw in his mind. The aged man, when young, had befriended a dark wizard, and had… The professor was not as what Harry had thought of him to be. He was flawed, had made grievous mistakes, and had had darkness inside him. However, before his thoughts could continue, the young wizard had thought of Alice. _"Mum was capable so much cruelty. He killed a lot of people, and sent many of his citizens to their deaths even though he might have believed in many of the wars or not. It was said that the sun did not set over the British Empire for a reason…but I think that he is a kind person and a good nation." The young girl was smiling, her emerald eyes bright, and her hands in her lap as she talked to Harry and Hermione._

" _All nations and humans are capable of doing bad things, and Mum said that there is nothing you can do about the mistakes and sorrows of the past. You can only live for today, and be the person you whished yourself to be at that moment in the present time, and hope that wounds fade with time." Alice softly laughed. "Although I think it'll be a while before Ireland forgives what happened many centuries ago. And I…am happy…so very happy…that Mum and Papa, despite of what they did in the past, despite what they did to each other…can find their own happiness." Tears were sliding down the young girl's cheeks. "I am happy that they are going to be married."_

 _Perhaps I'm not as forgiving as Alice…but I can see of how England cares deeply about his people…both Muggles and wizard and witches. And I suppose if he can forgive himself for what happened in the past, and sees Dumbledore without reproach…_

"It is okay, Professor." Harry stated easily. His emerald eyes stared at the professor for a moment, staring at the tears that were slowly flowing down his cheeks. Without another word, Harry left the professor's office.

 _I suppose there is no way to know a person,_ Harry thought to himself as his mind refused to sleep. _Like Dumbledore to Gindelwald…and perhaps even Ron and I._

 _And Malfoy…_ Harry thought of the horrid sixth year student. _What is he up to?_


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12_

"Oi! Blood traitor!"

Alice and Evangeline looked back and could see a familiar smug face with white-blood hair.

"If you don't mind," Evangeline stated coolly as she barely glanced at Malfoy. The sixth year was standing behind them, and Alice could feel the animosity surging from him as the girl with emerald eyes continued to stare ahead, desperately ignoring the festering negative emotions in her mind. _Don't. That is what he wants,_ she told herself. "We have a class to go to. Potions," she added nonchalantly with a glance at Malfoy. "Certainly you understand the importance of that." The twelve year old Slytherin stated with such sarcasm that pain jolted in Alice's heart at the memory of another young witch who had the same temperament. _Emyr…_

"I was just thinking, Emyr," Malfoy said without any indication that he had heard what the second year had told him. "How can you live yourself, knowing that you betrayed your own kind and continue to debase yourself with that mudblood." Alice didn't flinch. _"Your anger can cause more damage than normal, Alice." England had stated as a sweating blond-haired girl shook as she stood. "Now that I have taught you some ancient spells, your anger can cause some damage if unchecked. Similar to mine." Inwardly she thought of how a teenage England had caused destruction in his boss' chambers from the alliance between her uncle Scotland and her father France._ "How can you live with yourself, knowing that neither of your parents aided the Dark Lord in his time of need, then and now?"

Alice's eyes narrowed. "Did you just call Voldemort the Dark Lord, Malfoy?" For a moment, she thought she saw Malfoy stiffen before he smirked.

"How brave for a pathetic _mudblood_ to call the Dark Lord by his true name," the smirking young wizard stated as he suddenly moved forward to them. Although Evangeline pulled her robe in order to hurry and go to Potions, Alice stood her ground and glared at Malfoy as he stood directly in front of her. She could see his gray eyes, so unlike the warm grey eyes of some of the nations she had seen through her mother's memories. "I heard about your parents," he hissed as Alice suddenly paled. _How…?_ "I heard of how the abandoned you when they knew _what_ you truly were, and of how you _live_ with other freaks like you!"

Cold anger surfaced then in Alice. She did not pay attention to the bewildered gaze Evangeline was giving her, or of the suddenly growing pressure as her anger burned.

"Alice!" Evangeline yelled, attempting to hold her friend's arm as the blond-haired girl looked at Malfoy through burning emerald eyes. "Alice, you need to calm down," she hissed.

The pain was still there. _"Freak!"_ The word continued to burn into her mind until the emerald-eyed girl could think of nothing else, ceaselessly repeating. Alice's gaze hardened, hearing Malfoy's hateful mouth moving as he suddenly held his wand.

"I can't wait to see the expression on your face when I kill them."

Suddenly, Alice gripped her face with her hands, pain surfacing through her skin as dark memories invaded her mind. Her father, France, bleeding from a wound on his head, his hair disheveled and his Napoleon-era uniform splattered with red as her mother England rested across his chest, his face white with a large red stain across his stomach, his chest barely moving. _"Angleterre…" her father murmured breathlessly as gasps tore from his throat. "Je…je suis desole."_

The fear was real. Alice could feel it grasping at her throat as her head pounded from the dark memory echoing in her head. _Stop,_ she thought. _Stop!_ Her gaze filtered through Malfoy's sadistic smile. Rage started to surface, coming in waves as Alice shakily raised her hand and stated a spell that she knew that she shouldn't use –

Malfoy was unconscious, his long legs spread like an eagle in flight as his wand lay uselessly by his side. Alice was crouching down by Evangeline, hardly daring to breathe as her face paled and suddenly realized what she had done. Evangeline's harsh questions remained subdued, and Alice gulped, her hand slightly shaking as she stood and opened her mouth to speak to her friend when a cold voice interrupted.

"Kirkland." Snape's voice was icy as he stood before the prone unconscious form of Malfoy, as if protecting him from the said future nation. "What happened here?"

"I-I –" Alice's voice was almost inaudible as her eyes widened. _This is the second time this happened!_ she thought with a panic. "I hit him with a spell, sir."

Snape lowered his eyes until she could see the cold unrelenting depth of his eyes. Alice slightly shuddered, looking as his fingers absentmindedly were placed on his left forearm. _He knows,_ the emerald-eyed girl suddenly thought. Her face paled further as she remembered Voldemort's high voice proclaiming he had a spy at Hogwarts. _He knows, and he's the spy, isn't he?_

"Detention, Kirkland." Alice snapped out of her thoughts and could see Snape levitating Malfoy as he looked at her coldly. "Starting tonight and for the next week." He turned, Alice's eyes briefly locked onto his back before turning to her friend. Evangeline was observing her strangely, her grey eyes narrowed and her forehead wrinkled as she stared at the emerald-eyed girl.

"Is there something you should tell me?" The dark-haired girl asked. Alice slightly hesitated. Should she tell? Both her mother and father had cautioned her against telling anymore humans of her secret. _She already knows I can use spells without my wand or speaking. And also…Emyr died without knowing who I truly was. And I trust…Evangeline._

 _With my life?_ A voice asked in Alice's head.

 _With my life,_ Alice replied. "Do you mind not missing Potions?" The second year Gryffindor asked. Evangeline smirked and Alice inwardly sighed with relief at the sound of her friend saying that she didn't care about missing their class with that slimy git.

The blond-haired girl was almost dragging her feet as she entered the girl's bathroom. Her cold hands became colder as she turned on the faucet and cold water spilled onto her hands. She thought about her parents as she cupped the water with her hands and washed her face. _I inherited Mum's liking for cold water. It's funny because Mum always takes short showers but Papa hates clouds the bathroom with heat and the mirrors are always fogged because of the length and warmth of his showers. Although,_ she thought as the cold water ran down her face, _sometimes both of them take a very long time in the bathroom, and I become very irritable when that occurs._

"Alice?" The girl turned and found Harry with a cloak over his shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"Snape made me sort through and organize the detention files," Alice sighed with a slight frown. "I was washing my face to make myself wake up again." Her emerald eyes looked at the cloak he had over his shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

Harry shrugged. "I was –" Suddenly their gazes rested upon the figure that had revealed himself. "Malfoy?" The dark-haired wizard gasped. Malfoy was standing by one of the stalls, his wand pointed directly at Alice. "Aren't you supposed to be at the Hospital Wing?"

"I didn't ask for your bloody questions, Potter." Malfoy snapped darkly as his grey eyes locked onto Alice's. "I came to find Kirkland, and make her pay for what she did to me."

"What she did to you?" Harry's eyebrows rose as Alice stared at Malfoy's wand, dread suddenly coursing through her as she looked at the intent in his eyes. "What –"

 _"Crucio!"_ Malfoy bellowed, the red spark flowed from his wand. Alice gasped and barely dodged in time. The sixth year Gryffindor beside her looked at the scene with shock morphing into rage.

Harry's wand was raised and soon the two wizards were fighting. _Shit,_ Alice thought as she saw the murderous rage in both of their eyes. _Shit, bloody hell, I need to do_ something!

 _"Pian gan teorainn,"_ Alice whispered as Malfoy bellowed another _Crucio_ as Harry moved his lips to utter a spell the blond-haired girl recognized to her horror.

Harry didn't scream. His face was turned from her, but she could see of how his hands were clenched at his sides and his eyes were squeezed shut. It took only a moment for Harry to collapse on the ground, his body falling in an awkward position as his gasping breath echoed through the bathroom as the pale blond grinning at his feet suddenly fell and screamed. The screams filled in Alice's ears as she ran to Harry's side, his heavy arm against her shoulder as he opened his agony-filled eyes to see her murmuring yet another spell. _"An old Irish spell that Rome taught me, capable of healing most wounds or pain."_ Harry stumbled, walking slowly as the forgotten unconscious figure of Malfoy lay on the ground as the exited the bathroom to the Gryffindor Tower.

"Thanks," Harry said with a faint rasp as Alice looked at him in bewilderment. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there. I have a mission with Dumbledore tomorrow," he stated in a more serious tone. "I don't know what it is…but it seems important." He smiled at her, gentle. "So, thank you."


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13_

"So you're a nation?" Evangeline asked, her grey eyes still dark with shock but not as awed as Alice expected them to be. The blond-haired girl had explained to her friend of what she was, and the sarcastic Slytherin had stilled, not yet daring to look at the Gryffindor in the eyes. Alice had explained carefully what a nation was and the circumstances of her birth. Evangeline hadn't said a word during that time, drinking in what her friend was saying and then, after the emerald-eyed Gryffindor had fallen silent, Evangeline had asked her the question.

"I will be," Alice answered. She was aware of the questions burning in her friend's eyes, and explained further. "I will be the next England after he dies."

"It'll be soon then," the second year Slytherin observed as Alice lowered her eyes. _Yes,_ she thought. _It'll be soon. Sooner…than either of us hope to be._ "But when he…" Evangeline hesitated, a knowing look in her friend's emerald eyes as she took in the uncertainty in her gaze. "When he dies, Alice, what will happen to you? You'll likely still be in school then, and –"

"Mum said that all of his memories will become mine after he dies," Alice whispered as she and Evangeline continued walking. Alice had never walked this far past the Potions' room before, and noted of an unfamiliar dark door nearing towards them. _The Slytherin common room,_ Alice deduced. She turned her thoughts towards her dark-haired female companion. "I have lessons with him so that the memories won't force me into a coma…when the time comes." She paused. "As for school, I will still have to complete my six years of education, and every month I will have to go to a World Meeting." Despite herself, Alice shuddered. Seeing the bewilderedness in her friend's expression, the Gryffindor reluctantly explained her dread. "The meetings are notorious for not getting _anything_ done. Germany is forced to scream half the time, America usually shouts ridiculous ideas, and half of the nations in the room end up fighting over centuries old grudges by the time the monthly meetings are over." Suddenly a small smile caressed Alice's face. "My parents used to be like that too – they fought for over one hundred years after all – but since they have been together, they've been one of the countries who don't cause problems."

"How…long have they been together?" Evangeline asked with a glance at her friend.

"Since the month after the signing of the Entente Cordiale," Alice replied, and sighed inwardly when she was met with a blank look. "It was a series of treaties and agreements between the governments of England and France to combat the alliance between Austria-Hungarian Empire and Germany. But I like to think," the emerald-eyed successor stated with a wistful look, "that it was a treaty signifying that my parents hadn't been at war against another for about one hundred years."

"Since your birthday was on the eighth of April, did…your parents get you anything?"

Alice nodded. "I know most teenagers – since I am one now – prefer things for gifts, but I think that I got the most important gift I could get from my mother and father. Memories." The thirteen year old girl was smiling, and Evangeline looked at her curiously. "My father said that he and Mum kept me until three months after my birth, and Mum…gave me all of the memories he and Papa had of me until the time I was born to the day I was given to my human parents."

"So then…Arya died protecting you, then?" There was peace across Evangeline's expression, and a soft smile caressed her face as Alice too thought of her dead older sister. "She died…protecting the future of England?"

"Yes," Alice said as she embraced her friend, knowing to allow her friend's face to burrow into her shoulder to not see her tears pelting down her face. "She did."

* * *

Alice was asleep when Dumbledore died. The teen had woken up to find the Gryffindor room in chaos, Harry nor Hermione nowhere to be found. She had not found Ginny either, and was told by one of the older students – a seventh year who admired and revered Dumbledore greatly – told her in a subdued tone that the headmaster had died and that Draco Malfoy had been the one time kill him. _"I will kill him myself,"_ the student hissed. Her auburn hair was wild across her shoulders, and her hazel eyes were narrowed in murderous rage. _"I don't care that it's Harry Potter's wish to kill that slimy and_ disgusting _wanker, but I will be the one to kill him."_ Snape had been on the Death Eater's side and had escaped with the other Death Eaters as well. There had only been two casualties – Bill Weasely who had been bitten by an untransformed werewolf, and a sixth year Slytherin named Winters. Alice had paled at the sound of the name, and had demanded the seventh year – who she found out was named Erin Zelasko – what had happened. It was explained haltingly and then nonchalantly that Winters had arrived at the Astronomy Tower after hours, about the time Dumbledore was killed.

" _He was killed right away."_ She had not missed the shock and discriminatory whispered words of, _"Wasn't he on their side?"_ The blond-haired teen had almost withered in anger at the misjudged perception of the coolly kind Slytherin who had defended her from Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express train all those months ago, and her stomach dropped at the thought of Matthew Winters, the younger brother of the young wizard who had died far too young. She had almost felt sick when she heard the common room door open. Alice and the other Gryffindors hadn't moved an inch when Professor McGonagall had explained to them of what had happened that night. _Did Mum feel it?_ Alice thought as she watched various faces crumble and tears falling from their eyes. _Did he feel every death…including the ones bringing it?_ She lied her hand over her heart, wondering why it was still beating.

She found Harry and Hermione beside each other in the funeral, holding hands and their faces white. Alice could see that Harry was trying not to cry, but she could almost feel the growing numbing agony going through him as the funeral progressed. Alice was beside Evangeline and Matthew, trying not to glare at the hard eyes on her back from the students. _Why won't they understand? All Slytherins…don't become like this. Evangeline's_ sister _died fighting against a Death Eater, and Matthew…he lost his brother._ The teen witch found the Slytherin to be trembling, so much so that Alice could see Evangeline holding his hand tightly, his lips raw and abused as thick tears ran down his face. _The funeral is supposed to be next week, I believe._

 _Mum…_ Alice thought as she watched Harry and Ginny talk for the first time in over a year, the younger Gryffindor sobbing and saying that she was so sorry for blaming the dark-haired wizard for her brother Ron's death. Her emerald eyes watched the bittersweet reunion as Harry embraced the younger teen, his arms around her waist as Hermione watched on with a sorrowful expression _Mum…how can the world still keep on going through so much darkness? I'm certain you must have had such thoughts before, but how can it? How can I…?_

Alice was now looking afar as her mother and father danced during their wedding. England and France were wearing matching tuxedos, their eyes only on each other as they danced to the soothing classic music. It had been a week since Dumbledore's funeral, and a week since Harry had told her that he and Hermione weren't coming back to Hogwarts; they were going to search for Horcruxes that made Voldemort immortal, and destroy them. _"Alice…I don't think you should come,"_ Harry had tried to whisper to her gently. Surprisingly, Alice only felt a feeling of loss and not the anger that she had expected when she whispered to him that she was the daughter of the former British and French Empires, and was not so easily deterred. _"If I cannot come on this journey with you…then how I can I call myself England, Harry? Because…that is what is going to happen when the war is over."_ Harry's emerald eyes bored into Alice's own then, and he was about to reply when England appeared before the two and told them that Alice was right. Harry had been beyond stunned, but England's only reply was that he had to allow Alice to grow and learn how to live without him.

She could see Germany and his lover Italy dancing as well as Prussia filmed gleefully. America and Canada were on the side, watching their adopted parents with proud and almost smug expressions on their faces. Alice smiled fondly when she saw England's brothers – all four of them – sitting at one table and attempting not to cry. It was a simple wedding. Alice's mother and father hadn't wanted a frivolous wedding as America had suggested, finding a beautiful area in the countryside in Ireland – to appease the two countries and to gesture their new-found relationship – surrounded by tables with white cloth and honeysuckle and other flowers surrounding the arch where the two people most important in Alice's life stated their vows.

They stated them first in English and then in French, and as Alice watched them now with pure joy and happiness in their expressions, she glanced at two people who she expected wouldn't be there. Harry and Hermione had told Alice that they wanted to come to their wedding. Although it wasn't stated, neither of the humans expected to see England alive again – and wanted to see them one last time. Hermione was wearing a red dress with her hair in a bun as Harry was in dress robes, the color emerald green. Alice walked toward them, her eyes on her parents for a moment, before standing beside her two friends.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" Harry whispered. His gaze was on the England and France, who were now laughing and had their hands on their shoulders as the other nations started to bring out the meals – specially cooked various dishes for every nation in dishes coming from their home country. She could see Norway, or Dr. Bondevik, giving Harry a nod before choking an obnoxious Denmark with his tie, and could see Japan wearing a kimono holding hands and smiling with Greece, who had helped delivered her into this beautiful, cruel world. Alice Kirkland's emerald eyes focused on her parents again – England, who was shouting at America to stop eating before the meal had begun, and France, who was looking at his new husband with pure love and whispering soothing words in French in England's ear.

"Yes," Alice whispered as she took in the scene before her. She turned to Harry and Hermione and smiled. "It is."

* * *

To be continued in the conclusion, _The Fall and Rise of A King_ , coming summer 2016...


	14. Author's Note

My dear readership,

I am sorry. As you have known I did not update the final chapter in the Alice Kirkland saga. For an entire summer that I was going to write, I had to take a math course – it crushed me. I was planning on writing the story in September, but my real life became almost like a dramatic anime. I have not been myself since September, and I find that I can no longer update this story of mine, _Adhesions of Sentiment_. I have been trying to reinvent myself – from being told in my final year studying Japanese that no matter how hard I study, I wouldn't understand what was being taught. Japan and Japanese was my first love. Hearing those words was like a death blow. Personal situations, such as death and taking care of family member with chronic pain, have taken their toll – the story that I have written, with sadness written with every word, is too close to how I feel now. I am very sorry, for I cannot tell you how surprised and happy I was with every review, favorite, and follow I had gotten since August. It is with a great heart that I tell you that is put up for adoption.

It is not my wish for this story to simply fade away – although it might. If anyone is interested in continuing this story, the individual may PM me and we can talk about it further. Please tell people about this story if you so wish – perhaps one of them would be interested in continuing _Adhesions of Sentiment._

 _全てをできてくださってありがとうございました。_

Thank you very much for all that you have done.

Mononoke-hime x sukai kurora


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